


Collapse the Light Into Earth

by Lise



Series: Remember This Cold [33]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (can that be a thing now), Angst, Bucky is also a mess, Canon-Typical Violence, Disaster Friends, Dysfunctional Friendship, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Loki's a goddamn mess, M/M, Revenge, Revenge Roadtrip, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, Tissue Warning, being careful about tags because spoilers, please trust me, set between Cap 2 and Age of Ultron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst happens. Loki isn't ready. </p>
<p>But he knows at least one way to deal with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collapse the Light Into Earth

**Author's Note:**

> (Or, flippantly, Loki and Bucky go on a revenge roadtrip and kill a lot of Hydra people.)
> 
> This fic has been planned for...oh, a very long time. Back before I wrote the fic bringing Bucky into this verse, actually. I've known it was coming for a while - I just had to get to it. And now it is here, and all I can say is please trust me, you guys. But also...maybe bring tissues. This was a rough fic for me to write, emotionally. Song recommendations: listen to "Into Eternity" from the Thor 2 soundtrack, and the titular song, "Collapse the Light Into Earth" by Porcupine Tree. 
> 
> With thanks as always to [my wonderful beta/personal Steve](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com) and also to [portraitoftheoddity](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com) for helping me out of a plothole (and being generally lovely).
> 
> And to all of my readers and reviewers and followers on tumblr: you are all lovely. Thank you, too. If you haven't already, feel free to come and yell at me said [tumblr](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com); I'm generally friendly and I love affirmation from internet strangers. 
> 
> Enjoy.

Steve was late coming home.

Loki tried not to fret – Steve was not late _often_ but sometimes it happened. The career of a superhero was not exactly predictable, and Loki knew that. Most likely it was nothing. Yet just the same, unease prickled up and down his spine, and as a half an hour turned into an hour Loki abandoned even the pretense of reading and began pacing the length of their apartment.

Probably nothing, he reminded himself, but there was fear tickling at the back of his mind that felt like foreboding.

Loki jumped at the buzz of the front door and hastened over to answer it. “Steve?” He asked hopefully, holding the button. “Did you forget your key?”

“It is I,” said Thor’s voice, a strange note in it. Loki jerked back, his heartrate increasing. “May I come up?”

_Something is wrong,_ Loki thought, and tried to squash it. Thor might simply be here to inform him why Steve was delayed. Steve would think of that, if he was going to be longer than expected, and Thor would be eager to accept the duty. That was probably all it was. Loki buzzed the door open and resumed his pacing, though his heart pounded harder now.

He opened the door after Thor’s first knock and let him come in, his pride keeping him from immediately demanding where Steve was, though he knew his agitation must be obvious. Thor pulled him into an embrace without warning, almost too tightly. “Loki…”

Alarm bells were shrilling in Loki’s head. He remembered Thor coming to him much like this when Steve had been taken. “What has happened,” he demanded, trying to push Thor away without success. “Tell me-”

Thor’s breathing caught audibly and Loki felt his throat constrict, a quiet voice starting to scream at him _no, stop now, don’t let him say anything more, it isn’t-_

“Loki,” Thor said again, finally pulling back but still holding his shoulders. Loki did not want to look at his eyes, full of sorrow and pain. “I am sorry. Steve has…”

“No,” Loki said, too loudly. There was a ringing in his ears. Thor closed his eyes.

“He has gone to Valhalla,” Thor said softly, and Loki’s heart stopped. “There was an unexpected attack…I was not there, I am sorry-” His brother’s voice cracked and Loki wanted to scream at him but all he could think was _neither was I, I wasn’t there-_

His legs felt weak and the ringing in his ears was loud enough to drown out sound. He shook his head. “It’s not true. He cannot – do not _lie_ to me. I would have known-”

“Loki,” Thor said, his voice hatefully gentle, and Loki lashed out at him, fist striking his chest with a dull thud.

“Take me to him,” he said, a wild notion slipping into his mind. “I want to – I need to see him.”

Thor hesitated, plainly uncertain. “Loki-”

“ _You will not keep me from my lover,_ ” Loki snarled, and heard his voice break. He felt dizzy, but it wasn’t his head that was spinning but the whole world. It wasn’t real. None of this was real, it was all a terrible dream and in a moment he would wake – or else Thor was confused and it wasn’t Steve, because Steve couldn’t – could _not_ be-

“All right,” Thor said, voice still gentle though his eyes were full of pain and Loki knew he was grieving too (because Steve was- _no_ ). “His body – he is at the Tower now. In one of the medical rooms, on the twentieth floor.”

Loki grabbed Thor’s wrist and yanked them both there without any pretense of finesse. The others were there, gathered in a loose knot around – something. Stark’s eyes turned to him, gaze hollow. Romanov was sitting almost curled into herself, face streaked with tears, Barton leaning heavily on the back of the chair. Banner had his face in his hands though he looked up, eyes red.

“Oh, Jesus,” said Stark. Loki ignored him, striding forward.

“He insisted,” Thor said, his words audible somewhere distant. “I could not refuse.”

Loki took in details in fragments. The infirmary bed with white sheets. Steve’s hands loose at his sides. His face bruised and eyes closed (as if in sleep but Loki knew what – knew the difference). The blood on his uniform.

“Loki,” Romanoff said, but he ignored her, reached out and placed his hand on Steve’s forehead.

(Hollow, empty shell with nothing inside, but that could change, he could do this, he _had_ to. There were taboos and prohibitions and warnings but none of that mattered, nothing mattered-)

He poured his magic into (the shell) Steve, willing _healing_ and _life_ and _come back to me,_ come back to me. He heard an exclamation, Barton demanding “what is he _doing!_ ” _I am going to save him,_ Loki thought dizzily. _I am going to bring him back,_ and he could feel flesh responding, mending but sluggishly, slow to answer his commands. He drew on more of his reservoir of power, and more, until he felt as though he was going to burst with it, and _pushed_ it into Steve’s body because if he had enough power, if he had enough _strength_ he could _fix this-_

Thor was grabbing him, pulling him back, pulling his hand away. “Stop,” he said, and Loki heard his words as though through a distant fog. “Loki, stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I have to bring him back,” Loki said. His voice sounded strange, slurred. “Thor, I can do it, I just need – I just need to try a little harder-”

He heard someone sob. He thought it might have been Thor. “No,” he said. “No, Loki. You’ve told me yourself that death cannot be healed.”

Loki pulled away and grabbed Steve’s face again (his skin, cold and strange) and called on his magic, pulled until he could feel his body straining, until something popped behind his eyes and poured it into Steve, willing _heal, live, live, please live_.

Nothing happened. Nothing answered. It was dead flesh under his hands and a hollow body. Loki swayed.

“No,” he heard himself moan, something immense rising up in his throat and choking him. “ _No…_ ”

Steve was dead. The words hammered into his mind like blows. Steve was _dead._

The thing in his throat exploded out of him. A howling, awful scream that scraped raw across his throat and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, wanted to tear himself apart, nothing was ever going to be _all right_ again. The world was going to burn, he was going to burn and _Steve was dead_ -

The world went away, or else he did. Either way, he hoped it didn’t come back.

* * *

Loki woke slowly. His head felt full of fog and he could almost feel the drugs in his bloodstream. For a moment the wild thought crossed his mind – _it’s all been a dream, I am still on Doom’s table, Steve is far away and_ safe – but it only lasted a moment. Then all he wanted was to close his eyes and fade back into the mercy of oblivion.

“Loki?” Thor’s voice was very near, though quiet. “Are you awake?”

Loki did not answer, trying to keep his breathing steady though he knew it had already hitched. He could feel something around his wrists and though he did not try to move Loki suspected he had been restrained. He wondered dully if he had hurt anyone. Steve would be upset if he had hurt anyone.

Steve would have been, his thoughts corrected. Steve did not feel anything anymore.

Thor’s hand brushed his arm. “Loki,” he said again. “I know you are awake.”

“Then why did you ask,” Loki pushed out. His throat felt like raw meat and speaking hurt. He wondered how long he had screamed. He did not open his eyes, not yet ready to see a world in which Steve was – was dead. He made himself think the words, blunt and vicious, without euphemism.

He heard Thor sigh. His fingers closed around Loki’s arm and squeezed. “I was not certain.” Loki tried to raise his arm and found he could not. He let his hand fall without pulling harder, though he was certain he could break free if he made a true attempt. He almost heard Thor wince. “I am sorry, but you were…distraught. You lashed out at me when I tried to…” He trailed off. Loki opened his eyes, finally. There was a healing cut on Thor’s cheek and what looked like a burn on his neck and jaw. Loki did not remember putting them there.

“Distraught,” he repeated. Thor squeezed his arm again.

“You would not calm down. It was as though you didn’t hear me at all. I feared that you would hurt yourself, that…Dr. Banner gave you a drug to induce sleep.” Thor looked away. Loki could see the pain and grief on his features. _You are not the only one who is mourning,_ he thought, but it was not a soothing one. “I am sorry, brother, I-”

“You do not need to apologize,” Loki said, closing his eyes. “I am not angry.” It was the truth. It did not feel like there was room in him, with all the gaping emptiness, for something as small as anger. Thor was silent.

“You are not?” He sounded dubious and wary.

“No,” Loki said. “I am not. Though I would appreciate it if you would remove the restraints.” Thor hesitated for a long moment, and Loki sighed through his nostrils. “I am not mad, Thor.” On the contrary, mercilessly sane. “I will not lash out at you again.”

“And yourself?” Thor asked. His voice was quiet and Loki could not help but flinch.

“I will not do anything rash,” he said, likely after a moment too long. It was not a promise, but either Thor took it as such or simply decided to let it go and bent down to unfasten his bonds. Loki held very still as he did so, staring up at the ceiling. “Has Wilson been told? And Barnes?” Loki asked. His voice sounded strange and far away.

“Yes,” Thor said. “At least – I believe so. Sam Wilson wishes to speak with you, when you are…when you are willing.” Loki dipped his chin a fraction and sat up as the bonds fell away. He looked at his hands, remembering how Steve’s skin had felt: cold and stiff, like clay. He felt sick and pushed the memory away.

“Can you tell me…what happened?” He had not asked.

“I do not know…the whole story. Only that Steve…he was ambushed while alone.” Thor’s breathing hitched and when Loki looked at him his eyes shone with tears, his jaw working. “It was a perfidious act of cowardice. They did not dare to meet him in battle and so attacked from the shadows, at a distance…”

“Who,” Loki interrupted, some of the protective fog clearing from his brain. It was the only important question left. “Who ambushed him?”

Thor hesitated and then shook his head. “I do not know,” he said, but his gaze slid away as he said it. He might not know, but he suspected and was keeping it from Loki.

“Who,” Loki pressed. Thor pressed his lips together, but a moment later his shoulders slumped.

“Natasha Romanoff suspects that the organization of HYDRA was behind this,” he said. Loki heard himself make a sound that might have been a laugh, though if it was there was no mirth in it.

“HYDRA,” he repeated. “Of course. The Captain’s oldest enemy.” He had known they were not beaten with the fall of SHIELD. He had known they would rise again. And he had not stopped it, had not hunted down and burned every root he could find. Loki let his head fall back and his eyes close again. Thor’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Loki,” he said, his voice thick. “We will find them. We will have justice for Steve.”

“Justice will not bring him back, will it?” Loki’s voice sounded hollow in his own ears. Justice would not fill the hollow in his chest.

“I know it will not,” Thor said. “But Steve-”

“If you are going to tell me what Steve would want pray hold your tongue,” Loki said, pushing himself up to glare at Thor. His voice came out harsher than he meant. He could feel himself shaking. “I daresay Steve would want to be _alive._ ”

Thor’s expression was tired and sad. “If it helps you to be angry, brother,” he said, “I will accept your anger. I know you are grieving-”

“You know _nothing,_ ” Loki hissed, and hot tears were spilling out of his eyes and down his cheeks. Before he could take another breath he was weeping like a child. “You know _nothing,_ Thor!” He cried again, and then the words were gone and all he had was choking, heaving sobs. Thor held him, and Loki could feel his brother’s tears dropping on the back of his neck as he clung, pathetic, weak, hardly able to _breathe_ because it _hurt_ so much. _I want to die,_ he thought but managed not to speak. If he said the words Thor would never let him go free. “He wasn’t supposed to die,” he did say. “This wasn’t supposed to _happen._ ”

“I know, Loki, brother,” Thor said, his voice hoarse. “I know.”

* * *

Loki moved through the days in a fog.

Thor dogged his footsteps, always, fear in his eyes that Loki pretended not to notice. He ate when food was placed in front of him, though it was invariably tasteless, unable to overwhelm the taste of ash that clung to his tongue. He slept either fitfully or without end, waking only reluctantly.

He tried, once, to go back to their apartment, but the moment he stepped through the door everything overwhelmed him and he could not remember how to breathe. He took one of Steve’s shirts from the laundry hamper and left everything else behind, crawling into Thor’s bed at the Tower instead, nose buried in Steve’s shirt.

When he realized it was losing the smell of him Loki panicked and cast a spell to preserve it, but either it was already too late or the spell didn’t work on smells. Sam Wilson came and sat with him, saying nothing, Thor still hovering nearby. Loki heard them exchange a few words as Sam left, could feel their worried looks on his back, but stayed where he was looking out the window. He wondered vaguely what kind of damage a fall from this height would do. It wouldn’t kill him, likely, but it would hurt. He did not imagine it could hurt more than the yawning pit in his chest.

He knew it was these kinds of thoughts that kept Thor close, that were the source of his worry. Thor feared he would try to end his own life.

Loki had considered as much, but there didn’t seem much point. Suicides did not go to Valhalla, if there even was such a place, if Loki had not already forfeited any chance of being counted one of the honorable dead, if the Jotnar were ever permitted into that feast hall. There was no joining Steve that way, and it would only wound Thor – and perhaps others as well. He would not seek death yet.

He told Thor as much, but it only resulted in a pained expression and an embrace that was almost too tight. Loki returned it, though without much feeling.

“Loki,” Thor began, but then appeared to think better of it.

When he slept he dreamed of Steve, close and vivid enough to touch. _I love you,_ Loki said in his dreams. _Stay with me._ But always in the end Steve vanished, melting like ice in the sun. There was a public funeral that he could not attend, and a private one in which the body ( _Steve_ ) was burned to ash and Loki felt like he could burst into flame and burn up with him, or else freeze and shatter.

_Please,_ he begged the Norns, but there was nothing that came after.

When he wept, Thor was kind enough to give him some privacy, though he was never far away, and when the tears turned into screams and Loki clawed at his own skin, he was there, restraining Loki’s wrists and murmuring to him in a soothing voice even as tears ran down his face as well. Loki knew he was being _difficult_ , knew he was _a burden_ and could not care, could not care about anything but the great black _hole_ in the center of his being.

He did not know how long it had been when his eyes snapped open in the middle of the night and his head was clear. The pain wasn’t gone, but he knew what he had to do.

* * *

“Who killed him,” Loki asked Thor, pushing the cut up pieces of his waffle around his plate. “You said it was HYDRA. Do you know who struck the final blow?” Thor stopped and looked at him. With his newfound clarity, Loki could see the weariness in Thor’s bearing, the circles around his eyes and the grief etched into his features. His cheeks were slightly too thin; weight lost in his vigil over Loki.

When Thor had handed him the plate of waffles, complete with fork and knife, Loki had almost commented on his being trusted with such an implement – but he didn’t bother. They both knew that had Loki tried to kill himself there would have been little Thor could do to stop it, even close as he was. Thor was suffering too, and Loki could see it. It gave him a pang, but no more than that.

“Why do you wish to know,” Thor asked. He tried to keep his voice neutral, but Loki could hear the suspicion in it. He set down his fork and stopped pretending to eat.

“Do I not deserve to know?” Loki asked, instead of answering. Thor nearly flinched, but he did not back down, more resilient than Loki had expected.

“Yes,” Thor said, “but why now?”

“Now…” Loki looked down at his plate. _Now the fog has lifted, Thor. I am not drowning in it. I have a duty and an oath that I swore to myself._ “Before I could not think about anything but the fact of it. Of…Steve’s death.” If he was to be convincing, he would have to speak that more easily. Still, his voice trembled. Perhaps that was not such a bad thing; if Thor thought him too quickly recovered he would hover even closer. “Now…I need to know more. How, and why. Perhaps it will help me…understand.”

Apparently he had chosen the right words. Thor’s features melted. “Nothing makes it understandable,” Thor said, reaching across the table to take Loki’s hand in one of his. Loki looked at it blankly, forgetting for a moment to close his fingers so his hand lay limp like a dead fish in Thor’s. “But I…understand. It was a man known only by the name of Crossbones. He wore a mask.”

_Crossbones._ Loki frowned. “Another using that name served Sin, but I killed him.”

“A new man must have taken up the title.” Thor’s eyes were shadowed. Loki nodded slowly and carved the name _Crossbones_ freshly into his mind.

“And has HYDRA itself been found?” Loki asked. “Their new leader?”

Thor hesitated. “We are searching,” he said. “But they are cunning. Whoever leads them now…their name is unknown.”

Loki nodded and looked down at his plate with disinterest. He could feel Thor watching closely, however, so he made himself take a forkful of waffles and put it in his mouth, chewing mechanically. His mind leapt ahead, mapping, planning.

“Brother,” Thor said slowly. “When you are well…if you wish to help us…”

_When I am well,_ Loki thought, and had to swallow down a near-hysterical laugh. _Do you not understand, Thor? I will never be well. I cannot be, not now. Steve was – he was not supposed to die. Not before me._

“I understand,” Loki said. His voice sounded cold, but he tried to smile, to ameliorate it. By the look on Thor’s face he was less than successful. “Thank you, Thor.”

He heard Thor sigh. “Finish your waffles,” he said, roughly. “You are not eating enough.”

Loki cleared his plate, though his stomach groaned and shifted uneasily. He managed to hold the food down, though. He needed to behave normally. Needed Thor to believe that he was moving forward, was coping. Needed Thor to believe he was safe, so that he could have the space to do what needed to be done.

The Avengers might be hunting, but they did not have his resources. And they did not have his utter lack of mercy.

He had made the mistake of letting remnants of HYDRA live before. It was not an error he would make again. And then…

After that did not matter.

Thor had spoken of justice. What Loki needed was revenge.

* * *

Loki was not certain how he managed it. A thin patina of calm that he let crack every so often to show sorrow, but not grief. He kept himself closed off and quiet, but not silent. Something deep inside the core of him was still screaming, and there was that great yawning gash in his heart that yet went on beating, but with the newfound clarity of his mind he could shut it all away and _focus._

Thor, he knew, was suspicious. But he did not know the questions to ask, and was trying to balance his own grief with Loki’s. It was impossible to watch someone always, no matter how hard he might try. Sam stepped in, every now and again, but ultimately…Thor got tired.

Ultimately, Loki helped him along. A small casting and he slipped out of bed, out from under Thor’s heavy arm, pausing to listen to his brother’s heavy breathing, slow and deep and even. For a moment he felt a flicker of doubt.

Loki pushed it away. “I am sorry, brother,” he murmured. He had considered leaving a note, but any words he left would only make it worse. Thor would already be furious.

He knew it was cruel, leaving him like this, perhaps for the last time (though Loki did not think too hard about that). But he hoped at least Thor’s memories of him now would be fond. He would know their relationship had mended. That he had done all he could. If Loki asked…no doubt he would follow.

But for all Thor was a warrior who thrived on blood and glory, what Loki intended was not his kind of battlefield. Loki did not intend to wage war. He intended to slaughter. Thor deserved better than that.

But there was someone else who might not mind wading the river of blood Loki meant to spill.

He cast one last look at his brother, sleeping soundly, and wove himself through space.

Loki landed on the green lawn of a familiar facility and strode toward the front door. He could see the cameras turning to look at him with their electronic eyes and shorted them out with a flick of his fingers. The guards came a moment later, guns raised. “Stand down,” one of them called. “Or we will fire! You are not authorized-”

Another working and their guns turned to snakes in their hands. A third and they were panicking as shadows came alive with their fears. One tried to stop Loki as he kept moving forward; he was merciful and merely broke the man’s wrist, shoving his mind deep into unconsciousness at the same time. An alarm was shrieking but Loki ignored it, moving down the corridors. He engaged with two more guards and put an orderly to sleep before he reached his destination.

The nurse at the desk was not one he recognized, and Loki was almost relieved. He smiled at him, with all of his teeth. “I suggest you unlock the door,” he said, politely. “I am here to see the patient.”

“The Avengers-” the nurse stammered, and Loki let his smile widen, leaning forward.

“Are not here, are they?” He murmured. The nurse went pale. He opened the door.

Loki strode into Bucky Barnes’ cell, closing the door behind him.

It was a mess. It looked as though it had been torn apart, everything that could be thrown overturned. There were feathers on the ground from a pillow ripped to shreds. Barnes himself was lying on the bed, hands and ankles restrained and breathing shallowly. His eyes were open and turned to Loki, red-rimmed and wild. The alarm was still screaming overhead.

“That you,” Barnes said, jerking his chin toward the ceiling. Loki inclined his head, and Barnes’s eyes narrowed, focusing with some difficulty. “What’re you doing?”

Loki destroyed the cameras with a flick of magic. “Breaking you out,” he said. “It needs to seem as though you were taken against your will if you would like to come with me.”

“Come with you where?” Barnes asked. Loki could hear the sound of guards, yelling. No doubt they had called the Avengers. Perhaps some of them were on their way here now.

“You know that Steve is dead,” Loki said. It was easier to say, now. Barnes’s face contorted, and he nodded jerkily. “Do you know that HYDRA was responsible?”

“…no,” Barnes said. The hate that flared in his eyes was vicious, almost animal. It made something in Loki answer in kind. “They didn’t tell me that.”

“I am going after them,” Loki said. “I am going to hunt them to where they live and kill every last one of their people. I will sever the hands that murdered Steve and bleed dry the one who gave the order. I intend to do what I should have done before and cut off every head of this _Hydra,_ and every one that grows to replace it, if I must kill hundreds with bare hands to do so.” Loki met Barnes’s eyes, not certain what his expression might look like. Mad, probably. He felt mad. “I thought you might want to join me.”

Barnes did not hesitate. His arms flexed against his bonds, no doubt placed to keep him safe. “ _Yes,_ ” he said.

Loki broke the restraints and hauled Barnes to his feet. He heard the door burst open, the nurse babbling frantically. “Hold on to me,” he said, and wrapped magic around them both, tearing them away from there as something crashed against the door. His heart was pounding, and for a moment Loki almost felt alive again.

* * *

Loki had, a long time ago, set up safe places to retreat to in case of need. Shielded with layers of spells, well stocked with supplies, and easy to reach from the secret pathways. Most of them had failed for one reason or another with time, but there were a few still left, and it was to one of those that he transported himself and Bucky.

Barnes staggered slightly when they landed, but for his first time teleporting, adjusted remarkably well. He turned in a slow circle. “Where are we?” He asked, voice admirably calm for all Loki could feel the tension in his muscles.

“Nowhere,” he said. Barnes narrowed his eyes.

“You don’t need to be cryptic with me.”

“I am not,” Loki said. “It is nowhere. An in-between place. Nestled somewhere between Alfheim and Midgard, though more precisely than that in terms of direction I could not say.”

Barnes only looked taken aback for a moment. “Why are we here?”

“To prepare,” Loki said, not quite shortly. “I do not wish to attack HYDRA without any kind of plan. What do you know about their organization?”

Barnes sat down slowly on one of the chairs. “Not much.” His expression tightened. “They didn’t tell me much and I didn’t bother to ask. And my memory isn’t always…very reliable.”

“Think,” Loki said roughly. “Anything you know might be useful.” It would be possible, he considered briefly, to extract the information directly from Barnes’s mind. He rejected the idea the moment he’d considered it, for more reason than one.

Barnes half closed his eyes and grimaced. “I think…they work in cells. Usually in pieces, keeping intel fairly fragmented.”

“But there are links between them,” Loki said. “There are always links. How do they communicate with each other?”

“I don’t know,” Barnes said. “You don’t tell your logistics to a weapon.” His voice was flat. “Loki-”

“What,” Loki said, matching Barnes’s flatness, but the man was just silent for a moment and then let out a long exhale.

“Give me a second,” he said. “They only…they just told me about Steve two days ago. I didn’t have any idea HYDRA was involved, nobody said anything about how it happened, just that Steve was…” He broke off and inhaled, sharply. For a moment the sharp edges of clarity receded, and Loki was aware once more of the _pit_ that was always just underneath, the feeling like someone had scooped his heart out of his chest and left a dripping hole behind. He looked away.

“I am sorry. I did not think…they just told you?”

Barnes nodded, shortly, once. “Yeah. Guess they were worried I wouldn’t take it well.” He cracked a smile, though it was crooked and the expression did not touch his eyes. “They had that right, anyway.” The smile faded quickly, leaving in its wake a lost blankness that made Loki’s stomach squeeze. He wondered if he had that look on his face, like he’d suddenly lost all sense of direction. “So…it was HYDRA.”

“Yes.” Loki’s mouth felt dry and he swallowed, working moisture into it. “An ambush. Led by a man calling himself Crossbones. He is the second, I think, to use the name. I was not there. He was alone and I tried to heal him but by the time I knew what had happened it was too late, I could not-” Loki forced himself to stop talking before his throat closed. For a moment he thought the fragile shell he’d built would crack, but though it shuddered like a film of ice stirred by a wave, it held.

“Crossbones,” Barnes murmured. “I don’t recognize it.”

“We will find him,” Loki said.

“Yeah,” Barnes agreed. “We will.” His voice was grim, full of barely repressed anger. _Good,_ Loki thought. _I will need that._

He turned away. “You should try to rest,” he said. “There are some things I can do to begin figuring out where we go first.”

“I don’t need to rest. Right now I don’t think I could,” Barnes said. “What are you going to do? Can I help?”

Loki looked at Barnes for a long moment. The answer, strictly speaking, was _no_ – Loki needed to call in a couple of favors, and unexpected company could well cause some trouble with that. But there was a look around Barnes’s eyes – that lostness combined with desperation. Leaving Barnes alone and idle would be cruel.

“Certainly,” Loki said. “Come with me.”

He held out his hand. Barnes stood up and hesitated a moment. “Loki,” he started, a strange look on his face. “Are you…” He trailed off, and Loki tensed for the question, _are you all right._ After a moment, though, Barnes shook his head. “Never mind,” he said. “Let’s go.” He grabbed Loki’s wrist instead of his hand with his metal fingers, surprisingly warm. The thought flashed across Loki’s mind, _what would Steve think, to see us like this? Would he be pleased that we are working together?_

He pushed it away. Steve was gone. If he thought of him too much that fact would crush him, and there was still much that needed to be done.

* * *

The favors Loki called in were not the sort that Steve Rogers would approve of. Loki did not doubt that more than one of them would have tried to double cross him – but fortunately his reputation still held some water.

One of the Kingpin’s men demanded to know why they were talking to“the Avengers’ lapdog _._ ”A quick spell turned his blood to water in his veins, and Loki watched his companions watch him die with placid disinterest. They cooperated more willingly after that. No doubt Barnes’s lowering presence next to him did not hurt things, either, especially after he threw a man halfway across a warehouse with his metal arm after he tried to stab Loki in the back.

His question was simple: _where is HYDRA?_ He let the implication go unspoken: _tell me and I will not come for you._ The underworld was rumbling with the news of Captain America’s death. To Loki’s relief, whatever Doom had known or suspected about his relationship, it did not seem to have spread beyond him.

The information was scanty at best. HYDRA was good at staying buried. Information about this ‘Crossbones’ was decidedly lacking, and no one seemed to know who was leading HYDRA now that Sin was dead and Alexander Pierce gone the same way. Loki was not truly surprised, and when his last favors were called in he took Barnes’s arm and brought them back to the safehouse.

“Well, that was pointless,” Barnes said, kicking the table, expression twisted in a grimace.

“Not entirely.” Loki sat down on the couch, folding his hands carefully together so he didn’t pick at his skin. Barnes stared at him, eyes narrowed.

“Are you going to explain that?”

“If they weren’t curious before, they are now,” Loki said. His voice sounded strange and toneless in his own ears. “Captain America is dead and no one has properly taken credit for it. Now I turn up asking about HYDRA. Even if none of those we met have any ties to them – which I doubt, all things considered – HYDRA is a potential threat.”

“So they’ll have an eye out,” Barnes said. “But how does that help us?”

“Because I’ve… _suggested_ that if they find anything, they inform me.”

“’Suggested,’” Barnes said. His expression was tight again. “You mean you used your magic powers to brainwash them into telling you what you want to know.”

Loki focused his attention on Barnes. “Does that bother you?”

“Yes,” Barnes said. “It’s no different than what HYDRA did to me.”

“Does it not matter that it is for a reason you favor?” Loki asked. Barnes shook his head, mouth a line. Loki stared at him for a long moment, and then nodded. He wondered if Barnes knew about his…previous methods. How he had gained servants for his abortive attempt at conquering this realm.

“Fine,” he said. “We will find another way.”

Barnes looked startled. “That simple?”

“Is that so surprising?” Loki asked. He let the spell go with a flick of his fingers. It would unravel quickly; he doubted any of his subjects would notice the difference. “I asked for your help in this endeavor. I am willing to take suggestions.”

“Huh.” Barnes sat down slowly, lips pursed. Loki let the silence between them lapse, thoughts drifting, thinking of another way. He should have tried to find more information before leaving the Tower, but he had not been able to think of staying there, of waiting and idling. “The Avengers don’t know where you are right now, do they,” Barnes said abruptly. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Loki said. “They do not.”

“So are they going to be chasing us?”

“They will be looking,” Loki said. “But they won’t find us.”

“You’re not bringing them on board because they wouldn’t approve,” Barnes said. “Is that it?”

Loki inclined his head a fraction. He did not doubt that some of them would – Barton and Romanoff would likely not be averse to the idea of bloody vengeance, and even Thor would likely enjoy the prospect – but the Avengers were bound by their reputation, by law and expectation. Loki had no such limits. They would only slow him down.

“But me…” Barnes said.

“You are not a good man,” Loki said. “And you are not an Avenger.” Barnes did not object to his characterization, as Loki had known he would not. It was not strictly true, either – Barnes _was_ a good man, or could be. But there was violence in his blood, and- “Besides, the Captain…Steve was your friend. Long before any of this. If anyone has a right to vengeance…”

Barnes just looked at him for a moment, and then nodded, fractionally. “Thanks,” he said. “For coming to get me.”

“You are welcome.” Barnes’ expression flickered, and for a moment Loki thought he was going to say something more, but then he pursed his lips and glanced away.

“As for finding HYDRA,” Barnes said, “I don’t think we need to brainwash anyone.” Loki cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. Barnes’ smile was mirthless. “Between you and me – I think if we make enough noise, they’ll come looking for us. I’m their asset, remember? And you’re…you.”

“They won’t be able to resist,” Loki said. He half closed his eyes, feeling his mouth stretch into something like a smile. “You may be right.”

“I’m going to need weapons,” Barnes said. “Guns, knives…”

“Done,” Loki said. “Fine, then. Let us… _make some noise._ ”

* * *

Barnes was right. HYDRA came looking for them.

They attacked an empty warehouse Loki had set up as bait, armed with gas and weapons considerably more advanced than Midgardians ought to have. Still not powerful enough.

He teleported himself and Barnes into their midst and let battle-fury take over, only barely remembering to leave three alive.

Loki stood back and let Barnes ask the questions when they woke up, keeping his expression bored. “Answer me,” Barnes hissed at one of them. “Or I’ll let _him_ deal with you.” When the man’s gaze flicked to Loki, Loki let himself smile, aware of how it would look.

“Hail, HYDRA,” the man said, stubbornly. Loki caught the shift of his jaw and guessed his intention. He raised a hand, curled his fingers into a fist, and _yanked._ The man screamed and Barnes jerked back, turning on him. Loki opened his hand, the small capsule of poison spilling out of the false tooth in his palm.

“I am afraid you will not be able to escape that easily,” Loki said, standing slowly and keeping his gait casual as he sauntered over. “I do not intend to let you die. I can keep that release from you, you know. Allow Barnes to have his way with you. I am sure he has a great deal of anger he would like to expunge. Am I wrong?” This last he directed at Barnes, who only gave him the briefest of sidelong looks before refocusing on their target. He said nothing at all, expression relaxing into stony indifference. Loki let his head cock to the side. “Last chance. We do still have two of your comrades. Perhaps your screaming will make them more cooperative.”

In the end, the man cracked. He did not know much – a soldier only, of little consequence – but he gave up the name of his superior officer, a list of other names that meant little to Loki. “And the man who calls himself Crossbones,” Loki asked. “Do you know aught of him?”

“No,” the man said, eyes flickering back and forth between him and Barnes. “No, I don’t know – please don’t kill me.”

Loki let his lips curve. The expression felt ugly. “What happened to ‘hail Hydra,’” he asked, and snapped the man’s neck.

Barnes made a small sound, and Loki looked at him. “You really do have a nasty streak,” Barnes said, after a moment. Loki raised his eyebrows.

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” Barnes said after a moment. “Guess not.”

A part of Loki’s mind knew what Steve would think of what he was doing. He would hate it. He would look at Loki with disapproval, disgust. _Steve is dead,_ Loki reminded himself ruthlessly. _It does not matter anymore._

The information from the first HYDRA agent agreed with the other two. Barnes killed them both before Loki could. “Come on,” he said, meeting Loki’s gaze like he was daring him to say something. “Let’s go. We have our next target.”

“Indeed,” Loki said, offering his hand and gathering his magic. “It seems we work well together.”

“Seems so,” Barnes said, after a moment’s pause. He took Loki’s hand, grip strong.

They left the bodies behind, for whoever would find them. Loki wondered what Thor was doing. He wondered if Barton would feel vindicated by his actions, _see, he hasn’t changed at all._ He pushed both thoughts out of his mind, swaying as they landed back in his safe house. Barnes steadied him.

“You all right?” He asked. There was concern in his voice that made Loki want to flinch.

“I am fine.”

“Yeah,” Barnes said after a moment, his voice flat. “Sure you are. And I’m the picture of psychological health.” Barnes released him, though, and moved away. “You might be a better liar than Steve, but…” His voice only wobbled slightly over his name. Loki felt like he wanted to crumple and fold.

“Neither of us is ‘fine,’” Loki said. His voice sounded oddly hoarse. “That is why we are doing this, is it not?”

Barnes made a sort of strained, coughing laugh. “Sixth stage of grieving, huh? Bloody revenge?” He turned and looked at Loki. “You know I can’t stop thinking about how Steve wouldn’t want this?”

It was an echo of his own thoughts and it made Loki want to choke. “I know.”

“Doesn’t really make me want to kill those bastards any less, though.”

“Good,” Loki said. His voice sounded thick. Barnes looked at him in silence, then turned away.

“Do you have any food in this place?” He asked, voice too deliberately light. “I’m starving.”

* * *

Barnes had screaming nightmares. Lying awake, Loki heard him start and for a moment thought they were under attack. He considered saying nothing, letting Barnes endure alone, but it wasn’t really a possibility. Screaming gave way to begging by the time Loki reached him and shook him awake.

Lashing out with his metal arm at Loki’s face, Barnes jerked up, eyes wide and pupils dilated with lingering fear. Loki caught his wrist and for a moment almost imitated Steve’s voice, knowing how much more soothing than his own it would be. “It was a dream,” he said in his own voice instead. “You are awake now.”

Barnes calmed slowly. Loki could see the moment when he came back to himself enough for the shame to hit, and let go, drawing away. “I am sorry,” he heard himself say. “I assumed you would rather not remain…wherever you were. Excuse me.” Loki took a step back, but Barnes reached for him.

“No – wait.” Loki fell still. “Thanks.” His voice sounded hoarse. “It’s…yeah. Thanks.”

Loki inclined his chin in acknowledgment. “Is that all?”

“Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Loki said. After a moment he added, “I do not sleep much.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised,” Barnes muttered, what Loki thought was meant to be under his breath, but when Loki looked at him he just shook his head. “I’m good now. You can go back to whatever you were doing.”

Loki sat down across from Barnes, instead. “May I ask what you dream of?”

“Are you going to tell me why you don’t sleep?” Barnes fired back. Loki considered snapping at him, or backing off, but either option felt unappealing. He glanced away.

“When I sleep, I dream. Of falling, or worse. The only time I did not dream was with – with Steve.” His voice sounded strange, oddly bland. He would have expected it to shake. “I do not wish to know what I would dream of now.”

Barnes looked at him for a long moment: Loki could feel his gaze. He heard the man swallow. “I’ve done a lot of things I’d rather not remember,” he said, finally. “And had a few things done to me. Stuff doesn’t just go away.”

Loki considered that. “I could make it, if you wished,” he said. He felt Barnes stiffen, and waved a hand. “I do not mean – only give you dreamless sleep. It is possible.”

“No thanks,” Barnes said, without hesitation. Loki cocked his head a fraction, and Barnes shook his. “No offense. I’ve had that. When I was…shut down between missions. The nightmares are nasty, but they keep me grounded.” He paused. “That – can you do that for yourself?”

“No,” Loki said, after a moment.

“Too bad.” Barnes stretched back out, looking up at the ceiling. “You should try to sleep. I don’t know what the rules are for aliens, but…”

“I can mind myself, Barnes,” Loki interrupted. His voice came out sounding unexpectedly harsh.

“Can you?” Barnes asked. “Have you eaten today?”

_Do not try to take care of me,_ Loki wanted to snarl, and another part of him wanted to ask _is this what you used to do for Steve? Are you looking after me now because you could not look after him?_ “I am fine,” he said.

“Sure,” Barnes said. “You and me. Fine. That’s what we are. Didn’t you just say otherwise?” He sounded wry, a little, but mostly tired. “Loki…”

“Go back to sleep,” Loki said, making his voice gentler.

“What are you going to do? Sit there and brood?” Barnes’s voice sounded strained. “I don’t like being watched while I sleep.”

“Then I will go elsewhere.”

“That’s even less reassuring.” Barnes sighed, and sat up. “I’m not going back to sleep tonight. Summon up a deck of cards and let’s play a game. Something mindless. Nothing with gambling.”

“What did you and Steve play when you were children?” Loki asked, the question slipping out before he could hold it back. Barnes’s head jerked up, and his mask fell slightly, leaving his grief momentarily hideously bare. Loki had to look away before his fragile shell cracked open.

“Go Fish,” Barnes said after a moment. His voice wobbled, slightly. “Minute Maid. Stuff like that. We didn’t do card games so much as other stuff except when Steve was – was sick.”

Loki called up a deck of cards and pushed it toward Barnes. “Teach me.”

“Right,” Barnes said, after a moment. “Okay.” He picked up the deck and started shuffling, clumsily. Loki half listened as he explained the rules. His thoughts felt fractured and disconnected. He felt as though he should be doing better, should be doing differently. Barnes had mattered to Steve. He should be helping him, and instead he had dragged him into Loki’s own madness.

“If you wish to go, you may go,” Loki said abruptly. Barnes cut off and looked at Loki as though he’d gone mad.

“I know I could,” he said. “I’m not going to.”

“I merely want you to be aware,” Loki began, but Barnes interrupted.

“I’m aware,” he said. “You’re not the only one who has to do this, all right? You’re not the only one who l- cared about him. Got it?” There was a touch of anger in his voice, and Loki looked away.

“I know,” he said. Barnes seemed to deflate.

“Good,” he said flatly, and shuffled the deck again.

* * *

Their next target was ensconced in a respectable looking office building. This man tried valiantly to slither to safety by spilling every piece of information he could manage to speak. Loki felt a vague stir of disgust, but little more. Most of his babble was uninteresting or irrelevant. He did not know the man who called himself Crossbones and was not certain who led the organization, but he gave them a new pile of names, including that of the woman he reported to.

Loki was almost disappointed. The seething dark mass at his core craved blood, but there was no point in drawing out the suffering of this pathetic little man.

“We’re done here,” he said to Barnes, who put a bullet in the man’s head without so much as a flinch.

Before leaving the office, Loki checked the news, just in case, but there was no mention either of him or of Barnes. So they were keeping it quiet, then. There was footage of a memorial (for Steve Rogers, also known as Captain America, the announcer said) and Loki felt as though he’d been punched in the chest. He stood there gasping for several moments after he shut off the broadcast, and it took him a moment to realize that Barnes was standing behind him. Loki turned and almost flinched; his face looked raw, like he was struggling to hold something back that was too big to contain, though a moment after it shut down. Loki looked away too late, feeling as though he’d breached some wall into a private place.

“My apologies,” he said, keeping the words simple. He saw Barnes twitch out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t,” he said simply, voice a little harsh, and Loki inclined his chin and said nothing. A moment later Barnes sucked in a breath that sounded like a struggle. “We should go,” he said, turning away. Loki knew he might have – should have – said something, and did not.

They followed the trail, he and Barnes, leaving corpses in their wake. Barnes slept little and Loki slept even less, waking Barnes when he slipped into unpleasant dreams. Loki set his schedule for meals by Barnes’s because he could no longer trust the signals of his body. They played card games and slaughtered HYDRA agents until they found the first of HYDRA’s bases.

They walked in through the front door. These soldiers put up a better fight than some, but they died in droves just the same. Loki used his knives more than his magic, preferring the proximity, the blood and mess in a way he seldom did. He knew that something had gone awry in him, but it did not matter right now.

He and Barnes killed their way through a maze of hallways to the center, where a man in a pressed suit was waiting for them. Loki paused on the threshold, stepping just enough out of the way to let Barnes pass.

But he didn’t. Loki glanced at his companion and saw him frozen in the doorway, his face white.

“Ah, Winter Soldier,” the man in the suit said, and then, “ _the Captain will see you now,_ ” in a language Loki recognized as German. Loki whirled, reaching for his magic, but the only thing that happened was that Barnes’s eyes rolled up and he dropped like a stone.

Loki moved. His fingers wrapped around the man’s throat and he slammed him into the wall but only hard enough to daze. “What did you do,” he snarled.

The man choked. “What did you think – would happen if you – brought the weapon back to the factory?” He asked. Loki felt a flare of rage and hauled the man away from the wall only to slam him into it again.

“Answer me,” he said, “or I will ensure you see the color of your entrails for a good, long time before you die.”

The man’s head lolled for a moment. Perhaps Loki had hit him a little too hard. “Why should I,” he said. “You’re not going to let me go anyway.”

“No,” Loki said flatly. “But you can die quickly and easily or hard and slow. And I am very good at the latter.”

“It’s a kill switch,” the man said after a moment. “Built in with the brainwashing.” Loki felt his whole body go cold and the earth yawned in front of him. _He’s dead. He’s dead too and you-_

“I’ve changed my mind,” Loki said through his teeth. “I’m going to kill you slowly anyway.” He raised his right hand and summoned a knife. “First. You will tell me two things. The location of another of these bases of yours.”

“You’ll never manage to wipe us out,” the man said. “Cut off a head and two more grow in its place. We know all the soldier’s weaknesses. Sooner or later our scientists will figure out how to take you down too.”

“I did not ask for an opinion on whether I would be successful,” Loki said flatly. The blood was pounding in his head but he could not give in to the despair yet. “I asked for a location.” He pressed the edge of the knife just behind one of the man’s ears. “One way or another you are going to tell me. It is up to you how much it hurts.”

The man clamped his mouth shut. Loki cut off his ear. “Tell me,” he repeated, this time with the force of magic behind him. He wouldn’t have in front of Barnes, but Barnes was-

“Just outside Berlin,” the man said, looking horrified as his own mouth spilled the words. “There is another in South Africa, near Bloemfontein.”

“Very good,” Loki crooned. He put his knife behind the other ear, letting it nick just a little. “The other question. Who is Crossbones?”

“The man who killed Captain America?” the man said, and Loki felt himself twitch. It was a visible struggle, but the man managed a sneer. “Is that what this is about? Revenge for your dead fuckt-”

Red filled Loki’s vision and jammed his knife into one of the man’s eyesockets. He let him slide off the blade still twitching and Loki stood over him, chest heaving. _You did not get the information,_ he thought, but that faded, looking over at Barnes lying sprawled on the floor.

_You killed him,_ a voice murmured in Loki’s head. _You brought him here and you killed him. Are you even surprised? That is what you do. Kill, destroy, ruin – you should not have taken him. Should have left him safely where he was._ Loki walked over to Barnes’s body, wavering slightly. _You should not have-_

His chest was moving. Loki fell still, but he was not mistaken – where he’d collapsed, Barnes’s chest was rising and falling in the steady rhythm of breath.

The wave of relief that washed over Loki was overpowering. _Not dead._ He swayed, and reached out, touching Barnes’s temple and drawing him up and out of the deep sleep, nearly unconsciousness, that he’d fallen into.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Loki said. His voice sounded strange, slightly rough. Barnes blinked blearily at him and tried to shove himself up.

“What the hell-”

“He called it a kill switch,” Loki said, gesturing at the corpse. “It seems that phrase is not literal.”

Barnes looked like he was going to be sick. “No,” he said. “I’m not dead.” He did not sound happy, however. Loki examined him for a moment longer and then gripped his arm.

“Stand,” he said. “We can speak of this away from here.”

Barnes hauled himself to his feet, but he swayed once he got there. Loki caught him, balancing him easily with his arm around Barnes’s waist. “Whoa,” Barnes said, summoning a clearly strained smile. “Don’t get handsy, all right?”

For a moment, Loki imagined it, pulling Barnes against him and biting his lower lip, parting his lips with a tongue, grinding their bodies together and forgetting- but even in his imagination the thought made him feel vaguely ill. He was not that far gone. Another Loki, perhaps, would have. But he could not do that to Barnes, or to Steve’s memory.

“I will try to resist,” Loki said dryly, and pulled them away from the base.

* * *

“You have to send me back,” Barnes said. He had been quiet for a while, and Loki had let him, keeping half an eye on him but letting him think. This outburst, however, took Loki by surprise.

“Why,” he said, keeping his voice carefully flat.

“You saw what happened in there.” Barnes’s voice was flat as well, though he seemed to be struggling to keep it that way. Loki could hear the strain. “They said – supposedly the brainwashing was cleared, but clearly HYDRA still has hooks in my brain. This time they just knocked me out. What if there’s something else?”

“You fear they have something that could turn you against me.”

“Something that makes me – their machine again. Yeah.” Barnes didn’t look at him. Loki scoffed.

“You think I could not deal with you if that happened?”

“That’s not the point,” Barnes said, coiling tight. “The point is that I don’t want it to happen at all, and I refuse to be a liability. So you’ve gotta send me back.”

“No.”

“I won’t tell them anything,” Barnes said. “If I even knew how to tell them about this place. Look, Loki, I’m not going to be a risk, and I’m – goddammit, that _scares_ me. Who the hell knows what kind of ticking time bomb they planted in my brain-”

“I could ensure they cannot do it again,” Loki said. Barnes jerked.

“You – what?”

Loki shrugged. “Magic. I can check to see if there is anything latent in your mind that should not be there. And shield you from…outside interference. It should prevent the kind of transformation you fear, as well as a repeat performance of this… _kill switch_ being used.”

Barnes was staring at him like he’d never seen him before. “Could you have done that all along?”

Loki glanced away. “I could have. Would have? Perhaps not. And even once I would have considered it, I assumed you would not wish it, let alone trust _me_ in your mind. But perhaps desperate times call for desperate measures. I thought you should know it was an option.”

Barnes kept staring at him, his expression an odd mixture of fear and hope. Loki almost wished he had offered this to him before. Steve would have approved. That thought hurt and Loki pushed it away. Barnes swallowed. “Um…drawbacks. Are there drawbacks?”

“There is the fact that I would need to touch your mind, which might be…unpleasant, given your history. Other than that…” Loki shrugged. “There should not be.”

Barnes swallowed again, appearing to be bracing himself. “Then do it.”

“Are you certain?”

Barnes squeezed his eyes closed. “Don’t ask me that.”

Loki stood and moved over to Barnes, reaching out to touch his fingers to his temples. He tried not to flinch when Barnes did. “Try to relax,” he said, calling on his magic.

“Don’t say that, either,” Barnes said, sounding like he was trying to joke. Loki ignored it.

The working itself took concentration, and energy, but for the most part his examination found nothing. For a moment, he was tempted to try to pry into Barnes’s memories. He could see Steve again, there, as when he was young, even if it was through the unreliable prism of memory. He could touch, just for a moment…

When he withdrew, carefully laying a series of barriers that would resist all but the most determined of telepaths, Barnes was sweating and breathing hard, gripping the arms of his chair. Loki touched his wrist lightly.

“It is done.”

Barnes slumped. “Didn’t – hurt, at least,” he said, cracking a crooked, weak grin, though it faded quickly. “So…that’s it? I’m safe?”

“From that, at least.” Loki started to draw back, but Barnes caught him before he could get out of reach.

“Loki, wait.” He fell still, half turning to look at Barnes with his eyebrows raised. “You’ve…been acting kind of weird. Weirder than usual. Since we got back.”

Loki tugged his arm away, but not roughly. He looked at Barnes for a long moment, considering; when he spoke his voice was dull. “I was not aware that the words _kill switch_ were not literal.”

Barnes frowned. “You thought I was dead.”

Loki jerked his head in a small nod. “More precisely, I thought I had gotten you killed.”

Barnes’s expression flickered. “If I did get killed it would be my own fault,” he said. “You asked if I wanted to come. I knew there were risks.”

“You did not expect that one.”

“No, that’s why I walked into it. Me.” Barnes shook his head, looking annoyed. “I’m not your puppet, Loki. I make my own choices.”

“If you died-” Loki clamped his mouth shut and looked away. “Steve cares – cared greatly for you. I cannot help but feel that if you were to die and I were there…” He trailed off, picking absently at his right hand with his nails. “I do not like…feeling as though I have failed.”

Barnes’s expression was difficult to read. Loki could not help but think he ought to be able to, but he could not make himself decipher it. “You weren’t there,” he said, finally. “When Steve…when it happened. You couldn’t have done anything.”

Loki coughed a laugh that felt like choking. “Does that make you feel better, Sergeant Barnes?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not a Sergeant anymore,” Barnes said, instead of answering.

“It does not, does it?” Loki pushed. “You feel just as helpless, just as angry, perhaps more so because you did not even know and you should have. There was nothing you could do and that just makes it worse. Better to be a failure than to be helpless, no?” Loki heard his voice waver.

Barnes looked angry. “This is HYDRA’s fault.”

“At the end of the day it does not truly matter whose fault it was,” Loki said. “Steve is still dead, and I am still alive.” He took a shuddering inhale. Barnes was looking at him too hard, with too much sympathy. Loki did not know how to react. He tried to force himself to steady. “I have no wish to lose another ally.”

“I don’t go down that easy.” Barnes sounded almost gentle. Loki hated him for that in the same measure that he wanted to accept it, release into it. But he couldn’t. He could not fall apart again. _How do you do it,_ he wanted to ask, but he knew that Barnes was in much the same place as himself – clinging to shards of normalcy because there was nothing else to do, and collapse was not an option.

“Barnes...”

“You know you could call me James, if you wanted to.” Barnes ran his fingers through his hair. “We’ve killed a lot of people together by now. That has to count for something.”

Loki snorted. He still felt hollow, fragile, but he tried to pull himself back together, to reassemble the puzzle pieces of himself in something approximating wholeness. “Perhaps. I shall consider it.” He paused, realizing something. “Not Bucky?”

Barnes flinched. “No,” he said, after a moment. “That’s still not my name.”

“It is what Steve called you,” Loki said, not sure if it was question or statement.

“Just Steve,” Barnes said. “After…he’s the only one who still used it.” His smile was lopsided and strained. “I figure he deserved it.”

Loki looked away again. “James,” he tested. It tasted strange, but perhaps he could adjust. He liked Barnes – James. With more time he might have been…perhaps a friend. As it was, Loki was almost sorry he did not have the capacity to be that anymore. “It is not a bad name.”

“Glad you think so.” Barnes closed his eyes and leaned back. Some of the tension from the base had left him, Loki noticed with faint relief. At least he had done something good.

Loki slept for the first time in a long time a few hours later. He dreamed that Steve was holding him, the two of them curled naked in their bed. Steve stroked his hair. “It was all a dream,” he said. “It’s okay, Loki. I’m right here.”

He woke up shaking, but his eyes were dry.

* * *

After one base, the others followed. HYDRA scrambled to stay ahead, but he and James were fast, unpredictable, and brutal. If Loki had feared that James might flinch, he was wrong. He had been a good soldier before, Loki guessed. What HYDRA had done only made him better.

(That was not a sentiment Loki expressed to James.)

As Loki had expected, the authorities could not keep the chaos they were wreaking quiet forever. In his brief glimpses, however, it seemed they did not know what to make of it. Loki never saw the Avengers brought into discussions, and he wondered what they were doing. Were they attempting to pursue him and James at all? Mounting their own attack against HYDRA?

He pushed such questions away, though. They didn’t matter.

From some relatively important officers they acquired the name of HYDRA’s current leader – Wolfgang von Strucker, apparently, though some claimed there were others. The name of the man behind the mask of Crossbones was more elusive.

Loki gave up sleeping and made lists in the quiet hours of the night, maps and plans, and tried not to be drawn into the ever-growing hole at the center of his being.

It was always there, sucking at him with the same inexorable power of the Void. He knew once it pulled him under he would not escape again, and knew too that he could not escape it forever, but for the moment he still needed to.

Those few hours when James slept, however, Loki found himself thinking about what would happen when he no longer needed to. What would come then?

What would he do once HYDRA was burned from all the realms? Return to the apartment he had shared so briefly with Steve and live there alone, the memories of his short happiness fading one by one until the day came he could not recall Steve’s face?

Loki could not imagine that life. He could not imagine any life, even when he tried. It would be so much easier to just…let go.

_You will make Thor grieve again?_ He tried to tell himself. _And Sam, and James? You will be such a coward as to_ but he had always been a coward, and it wasn’t enough. Something had died in him when he’d seen Steve lying on that bed. The rest of him was just going through the motions and hadn’t quite worn down yet. A clockwork toy stuttering along.

“Steve used to pick the stupidest fights,” James said at some point, over a poker game. “I mean, back when he was small and sick all the time. He’d go up against people it’d be _obvious_ he could never beat because they’d said something wrong or looked sideways at a dame or talked disrespectful.” His diction slipped slightly, Loki noticed, but he just set down his cards and waited without remarking on it.

“And you were there,” he prompted. James looked down at his cards as though he was fascinated by them.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess. That was what I did, pulled his ass out of the fights he started and couldn’t win.” He laughed a little, weakly. “Steve never could deal with seeing something he thought was wrong. Couldn’t just walk on by. He had to try to…make it right again.”

“How little things change,” Loki said. He wondered if that was what Steve had seen in him, _something he thought was wrong._ The thought hurt and he pushed it away.

“Yeah,” James said. “I guess he never stopped doing that, did he?” His throat worked and he looked like he was about to cry. He dropped his cards face down on the table and took a few deep breaths. “Sometimes I wish…you know?”

Loki wasn’t certain, but he could think of several things that he wished, and more that he might if he were James Barnes. “I know.”

“He’s the best man I’ve ever known,” James said. “It just seems like…I don’t know. I almost don’t believe it.”

“I know what you mean.” Loki swept up the cards and began shuffling them, just to have something to do with his hands.

“He loved you,” James said, suddenly. Loki’s hands stilled. “You know that? Like crazy. When he talked about you he’d get this look on his face like – I don’t know.” James shook his head. “I don’t do poetry.”

Loki closed his eyes for just a moment. He felt like he was going to shatter. “He spoke about you to me even before you…returned,” Loki said. His throat and chest felt tight. “I was…I was _jealous_ of you, of the place you so clearly held in his heart. Foolishness.” He tried to laugh, but he could not make the sound. “He treasured you like no one else.”

“Not no one.” James’s smile was lopsided and crooked. Loki looked away, for a moment unable to breathe.

“My deal,” he said, instead of responding.

James looked at him for a long moment, crooked smile fading. “You could have broken me out without anyone being the wiser,” James said finally. “Why do it this way?”

“So that you can go back,” Loki said. His voice sounded strange in his own ears. “Tell them I took you against your will. That you could not stop me. Whatever you wish. I wanted to leave you the option of returning…after.”

Barnes was silent for several long moments. “What about you?” He asked.

“What about me,” Loki said. James ran a hand through his hair.

“Where are you going to go?”

Loki closed his eyes and stayed silent. He did not know the answer to that question. He had considered finding one of the spells that claimed to take the caster to the realm of the dead. Perhaps, if it worked, he might find Steve there. Perhaps he would be able to find some way to free him. More likely he would die in the trying. Or else, he thought, he could simply go to Yggdrasil and let himself fall into the Void once again. He doubted there would be any miraculous rescue this time, just falling, forever, until he perished or lost his mind.

“Got it,” James said. His voice was hard. “Well then. You should know I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to go back.”

“Do you intend to save me from myself, James Barnes?” Loki asked laconically. James snorted.

“I doubt I could if I tried,” he said. “I’m just not going to let you go down in flames alone.”

* * *

HYDRA was not led by complete fools. More than one of the leads he and James followed led into traps, empty buildings set to detonate, snares that left the pair of them bruised and bleeding more than once. But they were also not prepared to deal with magic.

They were learning too slowly to catch up. Which was good – the only time Loki felt alive anymore was burning through their feeble resistance and _killing,_ losing himself in the rhythm of battle at least for a short time.

And James with him. James did not fight like Steve – he was brutal in a different way, as good from a distance as at close range. Loki could see the traces of the weapon in him, though it was tempered now with something else, uglier and messier and more human. Loki wondered if it was his healing or his grief.

Loki dropped the body of the last technician on the floor, glancing briefly at the message he had been trying to send, and the coordinates it was being sent to. The phone in his pocket _ding_ ed at him and he pulled it out.

_ready when you are,_ it said. Loki tapped out his reply, _give me two minutes_ and began making his way back through the building.

The carnage, retracing his own path, had been satisfying to create, but looking at it in the aftermath simply left him cold. He flicked his fingers and heard the roar of flames go up back in the communication room.

His phone pinged again and Loki glanced at the screen. _someone’s waiting outside,_ it read. _seems to be alone. I have a sight on her; take the shot?_

Loki considered. _No,_ he wrote after a moment, quickening his pace a little. _Let us see what she wants._

He stepped out into the sun and paused a moment to let his eyes adjust. There was indeed a single figure standing several feet away, apparently at ease. He could feel her watching him, but with the sun at her back he could not make out individual features. After a moment Loki moved forward, calling his magic so he could respond quickly if need be.

It was Natasha Romanoff. She appeared to be alone, and a brief sweep with his magic confirmed it. Loki almost stopped when he recognized her, but…he was curious. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, settling back on his heels.

“Loki,” she said. She was in uniform, so this was at least a semi-formal visit. “Long time no see.”

“I have been busy,” Loki said. “How did you find me?”

Romanoff’s expression remained neutral. “I wasn’t sure I would. But you aren’t exactly being subtle. There’s a trail to follow if you know how to look.”

“I am not exactly trying to go unnoticed.”

“Clearly.” Romanoff looked toward the building and jerked her chin toward it. “Is there anyone alive in there?”

“No.” Loki met her eyes evenly, coldly. Romanoff did not blink, and he cocked his head. The expression felt manufactured; faked. “Are you here to tell me I have to stop?”

“No,” she said, after a moment. “But I am going to tell you that you’re killing Thor. He’s terrified for you.”

Loki felt a pang, but it was small and easily pushed away. He could not feel that pain right now, could not think of Thor suffering on his behalf. “I am not going to come back.”

“You’re not going to come back _yet,_ ” Romanoff said. Loki decided not to argue. “What about Barnes? Is he alive? Safe?”

“Ask him,” Loki said, glancing just briefly over his shoulder. Romanoff followed his gaze and he suspected she could pick out Barnes, perched on the roof. “What do you want, Agent Romanoff?”

“You look like hell,” she said.

“Flattering as ever.” He could feel this conversation starting to strain on him. He did not want to be talking to Romanoff. It was too close to – something, something he could not do right now. “Have a care. Your praise will go to my head.”

“I’m serious, Loki,” she said. “And I’ve gotta ask – is this really helping?”

He felt a small crack form in his shell. _No,_ a small, secret part of him whispered. _No, it isn’t._ “I would expect you of all people to understand revenge,” he said. He expected her to be stung, or angry. As always, she surprised him.

“I also know how empty it can be,” she said. The shell trembled and for a moment it almost fell apart, almost-

Loki managed to steady it.

“I know it hurts,” Romanoff said. Her voice was almost gentle. “But remember what I said? You don’t have nothing. You and Barnes can come in. HYDRA isn’t going to survive this, and you don’t have to take them down on your own.”

For a moment, Loki almost wanted it. Almost believed it.

He heard the faint sound of a gunshot and a moment later a sting in his neck. Loki’s hand flew up and he yanked a dart out of his flesh. He turned his gaze on Romanoff, whose eyes had gone wide. “Fucking – Loki,” she said, speaking low and rapidly. “That wasn’t me, I didn’t know anyone else was here-”

His vision started to double. “You are wrong,” Loki said. “We do have to take them on our own.” He reached for his magic and pulled himself to the roof. James caught him, this time.

“There’s a plane coming in,” he said, lowly. “We need to get out of here.” Loki could feel his consciousness slipping and jerked as a sting to his face brought him a little out of the fog. “Sorry – come on, Loki. Can you get us out of here?”

Loki managed to weave the spell. Barely. He fell clumsily onto the couch, almost dragging James with him, his limbs hardly responding.

“Poison or tranquilizer,” James asked, his voice urgent. Loki could not figure out what the question meant. This time it was the grate of knuckles on his sternum that brought him back a little. “Loki. Is it poison or a tranquilizer? Can you tell?”

“Not poison,” Loki said blurrily. “I don’t…think.”

“You don’t _think?_ ” James did not sound pleased with his answer.

“Mmn.” Loki could feel himself fading fast. “I suppose we will find out.”

“Fuck,” Loki heard James say, and then more loudly, “ _fuck!_ ” which was the last thing he heard before fading out altogether.

* * *

Loki was falling.

Falling as he was so often falling, not a single speck of light above or below, and he knew he ought to be fighting but did not have the will to remember how – or why. He was so tired, and it was so easy to fall.

He blinked and he wasn’t falling any more. It wasn’t black anymore – the sky above him was bright blue, only barely studded with clouds, and he was lying on soft grass. Loki blinked, frowning. Something seemed odd about this, but inhaling he could smell the sweet fragrance of the flowers.

“My son.” Loki turned his head slowly to see Frigga sitting but a few paces away, dress spread out around her under the shade of an unfamiliar tree, still young but strong, clearly well-tended. Loki did not remember seeing it in his mother’s garden before. He blinked at her, and she smiled, though her eyes seemed very sad. “You are safe,” she said, calm and reassuring. “It is just you and I, here in my garden.”

Loki felt something in him ease, a tension he hadn’t quite been aware of. He rolled over and pushed himself up to sitting, looking around the full bloom of Frigga’s sanctuary – and his. “Mother,” he said, almost breathlessly, and she stood gracefully, pulling him to his feet and into her embrace, strong and warm and _safe._

Something niggled at the back of Loki’s mind. _You should not be here._ He licked his lips, trying to push it away. Frigga released him, but took his hands in hers, her eyes meeting his with earnest sadness.

“Loki,” she said, but suddenly he did not want to hear what she had to say.

“Your garden looks lovelier than ever,” he interrupted, trying to smile, but it felt strange and wavering. “I could not have imagined that it could be more beautiful, and yet…I do not recognize that tree, though.” He gestured at the one she had been sitting under.

“It is yours,” Frigga said softly. Loki blinked.

“Mine? What do you-”

“I planted it, Loki,” she said. Her voice was so gentle and it made something deep in Loki quiver as though with fear. “After you fell.”

It was a dream, Loki wanted to say, I only dreamt it, but he could already feel the brief illusion slipping away. The singing of the birds seemed to fade, the smell of flowers a little less sweet. Loki felt his smile fade. “I am dreaming, aren’t I,” he said. “Then…you are not here.” He tried to pull away, but her grip was strong and she did not fade.

“No,” she said. “I am here. I do not know – I have been trying to reach you for weeks, Loki, but you have been shutting me out.” Loki’s mouth felt dry and he shook his head.

“Why would I shut you out?” He asked. “You are…” He trailed off, reaching out to touch one of the flowers. The petals felt strange under his fingers. It occurred to him that he would never see these gardens in life again. “You are beloved of me,” Loki said finally.

“I know,” Frigga said, drawing him over toward a stone bench. He followed her willingly. Something was still itching at the back of his mind but he did not want to look at it. It was something awful, something fearful. “Loki…I need you to remember. I know you do not wish to.”

Loki swallowed. “Remember what,” he said, but he knew. Had known, since opening his eyes on the blue sky. He felt cold, suddenly, in spite of the sun on his shoulders, and looked away.

“I am sorry,” Frigga said, gently, reaching out to lay her hand on his back. “My son, I am…so sorry.”

Loki closed his eyes. “You have not stepped into my dreams simply to comfort me,” he said dully.

“Can that not be my wish?” Frigga asked. Loki shook his head.

“It may be your wish, but that is not…you are afraid. As Thor is afraid. It was he who told you, was it not?” Loki heard his voice tremble and tried to steady it.

“Darling boy…” Frigga sighed. “I am afraid. That is so.”

Loki looked at his hands. “You think what I am doing is wrong.”

“I think what you are doing is understandable,” Frigga said. “But that does not mean it is what you should do. I worry that…you have always felt things so strongly, Loki. So deeply. I fear that you will let your grief devour you.”

Loki felt his shoulders shake, his eyes starting to sting. “And what if it already has?” He asked. “You do not understand-”

“Then speak to me,” Frigga said over him, a finger under his chin turning his head toward her. “Open your heart to me as you used.”

Loki swallowed hard again, but the lump in his throat did not budge. “It is as though – there is a great _hole_ in me. Something has been carved out of my chest and nothing fills it. It is like – like an unhealing wound that hurts all the time and I cannot believe it will ever heal. It is-” A great shudder ran through him and Loki’s fragile control shattered. He crawled into Frigga’s arms and sobbed, great full body heaves like retching, as though he could vomit out his grief and have it gone. “I loved him,” Loki choked out. “I loved him _so much_ and I _do not understand –_ I should have, I was meant to die, _I_ should have died-”

“Oh, Loki,” Frigga said, and she sounded like her heart was breaking as well. “Oh, Loki, love, I know. I know. I’m here. I know.”

It felt like an eternity until there was no more left in him, and all he could do was hiccup dryly, slumped over Frigga’s lap, feeling like a worn out rag, like an egg that had been dropped on the floor to shatter. She was petting his hair in slow, steady motions, as she had when he was a frightened child with no greater fear than monsters under the bed.

Loki envied that child. His innocence might have been a lie, but lies could be so very sweet.

“Love,” she said quietly, at length. “Please. It is time for you to come home.”

“He was my home,” Loki said. His voice sounded weak and raw. “I cannot…I cannot.”

“I do not want to lose you, Loki,” Frigga said, so softly, and it tore at Loki’s heart. “And your brother – Thor needs you.”

Loki shook his head. “He never has.” He felt so _tired._ He wished he could go to sleep like this, in Frigga’s lap, and never wake up again. He wished…but no. He could not sleep. Not yet. “I am…mother. I am so sorry.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Loki-” He gathered his magic. The image of the garden wavered. “Do not push me away,” she said, something frantic in her voice.

“Do not grieve for me, mother,” Loki said, trying to smile. “I was never meant for a happy end.”

He found the connection she had woven between them and severed it. The garden vanished and so did she. He was falling again.

The feeling of Frigga’s fingers in his hair lingered, his foolish heart slow to let it go.

* * *

Loki swam back into consciousness slowly. He turned his aching head and found James sitting at the table, though he still looked mostly a blur. “Welcome back,” he said, voice suspiciously neutral.

“A glass of water-” Loki coughed. His throat felt dry and raspy. “—would not go amiss.”

James got up and filled a tall glass from the sink, handing it to Loki. Loki took it and gulped half in four swallows. His eyes were focusing, if slowly. “Whatever they hit you with sure was nasty,” James said after a moment. “Best I can tell you’ve been out for almost twenty-four hours. Do you think it was the Widow?”

Loki considered. He remembered Romanoff’s look of surprise – it might have been feigned but he did not think so. “No,” he said slowly. “Someone else. Not HYDRA, I do not think.” Barnes’ expression soured further.

“Great,” he said. “So there’s someone else out there after us.”

“I would not worry about it,” Loki murmured. James gave him a withering look.

“Uh huh. Did you hear the part where I said you were out for twenty-four hours? A couple of times I had to come over and check to make sure you were still breathing. And that’s you. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be that lucky.”

Loki ran his fingers through his hair. “We shall simply have to be a touch more careful, then. It is usually harder to ambush me. I was…distracted.”

“By the Widow.” James’ mouth twitched and Loki wondered if he knew her beyond their altercation during the DC affair. “What did she say to you?”

“She told us to come in. That they could help and we did not need to work alone.” Loki shrugged. “Platitudes, I suspect.”

James frowned. “They might have intel we don’t.” Loki felt himself stiffen.

“Do you think they would welcome us?” He said. “Whatever sweet words she might say to try to convince us otherwise – do you think anything waits there but a cell for us both?” James looked doubtful. “I have no doubt they would claim it was for our _protection,_ ” Loki said, hearing the bitter note in his voice. “But a cage is a cage.”

“All right,” James said after a moment. “All right, if you’re sure. You’re probably right. I don’t know shit about most of them anyway, except what Steve has told me.” He rolled his shoulders back. “How are you…feeling? Do you need anything?”

“In the bathroom, second drawer on the left,” Loki said. James narrowed his eyes but went, and returned a moment later holding the little bottle and eyeing it suspiciously.

“This what you were looking for?”

“Yes.” Loki took it, broke the seal on the top and swallowed the contents as fast as he could. It still made his tongue shrivel, but the headache eased almost at once. James wrinkled his nose.

“Do I even want to ask?”

“No.” Loki pushed himself up. Twenty-four hours. He’d lost a full day to this foolishness. And Frigga…who knew what she might have gleaned from his unprotected mind? (At the thought of her, Loki felt a twinge in his stomach: _you were cruel to her._ )

_Sometimes one needs to be cruel to be kind,_ Loki thought ruthlessly, and stood. James looked like he was ready to catch Loki if need be. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He asked.

“As good as I will ever be,” Loki said. His throat still rasped a little and he drank the rest of the water, grimacing as it brought out the aftertaste of the potion. “We are getting closer. I am certain of that much.”

James nodded, stance shifting slightly, a little away from the worried hovering – though he was still watching Loki closely. “Closer to Strucker, maybe,” he said. “We still don’t have much on this ‘Crossbones.’”

“I have a feeling when we find one we may find the other.” Loki felt restless, itchy. Frigga’s words stuck in his mind: _I fear you will let your grief devour you._ He wondered what would be left of him at the end of this. James was still looking at him and Loki resisted the urge to snap.

“Did something…happen…while you were out?” He asked after a moment. “Not trying to pry or anything.”

Loki felt his mouth twist. “It seems being rendered so very unconscious leaves my mental defenses vulnerable.” James looked alarmed, and Loki shook his head. “No one – hostile. Though perhaps still dangerous.”

“Did they hurt you?” James asked sharply. Loki was almost warmed by what sounded like concern.

“No,” Loki said after a moment, though the ever-present ache did feel fresher again, more raw. “She did not hurt me.” He shook himself, shook the memories of Frigga away. “It is…unimportant. I doubt she was able to discern where we are, and there is little she can do without knowing that. As long as I do not let my defenses fail again…”

James did not look precisely reassured. “All right,” he said after a long silence. “I guess I’ll have to trust you on that one.”

“I am sorry for placing you in that unfortunate position,” Loki said dryly. James shrugged.

“I trust you a hell of a lot more than most people I can think of,” he said. Loki blinked at him.

“You should not,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

“How about you let me make that call?” James looked stubborn. “I haven’t gotten to make that choice for a while. And you haven’t screwed me over yet.”

Loki coughed a laugh and managed to refrain from saying _it is only a matter of time._ “I suppose I cannot keep you from making your own poor decisions,” he said.

“Damn right you can’t.” James’ smile was lopsided, perhaps a little strained. “Same as I can’t keep you from making yours. Still might try, though,” he added.

“I do not make poor decisions,” Loki said loftily. It was pretending, both of them wearing a thin skin of roles they did not quite fit. Loki wondered who they were trying to convince.

* * *

James kicked down the door on the HYDRA base and Loki strolled inside, magical shield already up to deflect incoming gunfire – but there was none. His footsteps on concrete echoed down the tunnel ahead of him, the lights still on and humming lowly but otherwise…silence.

“Hm,” Loki said blandly. James stepped up beside him, gun still aimed forward.

“This doesn’t smell suspicious at all,” he murmured.

“Either we were expected or they have begun to abandon all their caves.” Loki cast out with his magic, feeling for anything off. Nothing pinged his senses, but that did not necessarily mean there was nothing there.

“Huh.” James followed him, more slowly. “Be careful, Loki. Everything about this screams that it’s a trap.”

“Then there is nothing for it but to spring it,” Loki said idly. “One can learn a great deal from an opponent’s ambush.” At the end of the hallway the tunnels branched, one left and one right. Loki turned to James and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going to say we should split up,” James said, sounding almost resigned. “That doesn’t seem like a stupid idea at all.”

“You can handle yourself perfectly ably,” Loki said. “As can I. And if I hear gunfire and screaming…it is simple enough to return swiftly to your side.” He smiled crookedly. “Be careful, James.”

“I should say that to you,” he muttered, and took the right path. Loki turned and started down the left.

His footsteps continued to echo on the concrete. There were a few cameras that turned to follow his movement, but though he strained his ears he could not hear any movement other than his own. It made his skin crawl, though he could not say why. He had been in many deserted lairs before.

He turned another corner into a corridor lined with doors. He tested the first on the left and found it locked, but it was simple to wrench it open anyway. It was empty but for a cot in one corner, a sink bolted to the wall. A cell, Loki thought. For whom?

The other rooms he investigated were equally empty. One of them bore the faint scent of blood and cleaner, as though it had been recently washed. He backed out of that one, stomach vaguely uneasy with his memory of Steve shackled to a table, and now James as well must have been in places like this…

He heard a movement and whirled around, but there was no one there. He moved more slowly down the hall, calling on his magic. The last door was open and a quick check showed that it was empty as well, but the bed had sheets. Someone was still here.

Loki moved slowly forward. He caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and leaped back, blocking the punch aimed at his face and twisting to use his attacker’s momentum to throw him down. His opponent scrambled up quickly and Loki reached out with his magic, tethered his limbs-

\--froze.

His attacker threw himself against the magic holding him back, chest heaving. His chin was lifted and his blue eyes fixed on Loki full of defiance. Loki couldn’t breathe, couldn’t take in air, because it was Steve, _Steve_ alive and breathing and-

“Steve?” His voice wavered and Loki took a half step toward him, but Steve shrank back on what looked like instinct and Loki fell still. His fingers twitched at his sides but he didn’t reach out – there was no recognition in Steve’s eyes, not even a flicker. Had they taken his memory from him? Taken his memory of _Loki_ from him? Anger pounded in his chest but it was _nothing_.

Loki’s thoughts stuttered and fragmented like breaking glass. _Impossible,_ he thought, _impossible, it is a trick of some kind_ but he could not sense any magic. Had he gone mad? No, he had felt the blow, the solidity of his attacker – of _Steve._ Somehow, _somehow…_

“You are alive,” he breathed.

Steve’s expression flickered but only for a moment and he said nothing. Loki licked his lips, suddenly fearful.

“Your name,” he said. “What is your name?”

“Steven Grant Rogers, Captain in the U.S. Army,” Steve said, straightening slightly. The words sounded strange, though, like something recited by rote. “Aka Captain America. Born July 4th, 1918 in New York City. Mother Sarah, father Joseph. ASN O-4-6-2-3-6-2.”

Loki’s mouth was dry. Something was wrong here. _Stop looking,_ something whispered at the back of his mind. _Just accept a gift for what it is and stop-_

He stepped forward again, ignoring the flinch back, and reached out with his magic to touch Steve’s mind. Loki did not feel the push back that always occurred when he touched Steve like this – instead he submitted easily. It _was_ Steve but at the same time it was not and he did not understand, what had HYDRA _done._

He released Steve’s limbs, backing away again. Almost immediately he dropped into a fighting stance, like Steve’s but subtly different. Steve always moved a little like he did not own his own body – there was none of that here.

“What-” Loki worked some moisture back into his mouth, the dread growing at the back of his mind. “What do you know of HYDRA?”

“They are my masters,” Steve said promptly. Loki’s stomach roiled, his certainty coalescing slowly.

“The others,” he said, thinking of the hallway, the empty rooms, the smell of blood and cleaner. “What happened to them?”

“They were unworthy,” said Steve. No. Not Steve. A cheap copy of Steve, made in his image but with none of his substance. He felt sick, the relief melting away as quickly as it had come, because this was not real. All they would have needed was a little blood, a little tissue, and between their tendrils in SHIELD and Steve’s captivity with Sin…

“Unworthy,” Loki said, and wanted to laugh but he thought if he started he would not be able to stop.

Steve – _the clone_ looked at him, a slight frown between its eyebrows that was so familiar Loki’s stomach heaved into his throat. For a moment he couldn’t breathe again, could only see _Steve,_ his _lover,_ in this copy’s expression. He wanted to reach out and cradle that beloved face in his hands, kiss those eyelids, those lips.

_You could,_ the thought whispered into his mind. _Take it away with you. Mold its mind, give it whatever memories it needs, it could be him, you could have him back_ but even in the moment he thought it he knew it would be nothing but a lie. Little better than a shadow conjured with magic. It would not be Steve, not really. He could not…would not desecrate Steve’s memory like that. Even more so, he would not allow _HYDRA_ to desecrate his memory.

His heart squeezed in his chest.

“Come here,” he said, making his voice gentle. “All will be well.”

The clone watched him warily for a moment with Steve’s bright blue eyes before approaching. “Who are you?” He asked, drawing closer only slowly.

“It does not matter,” Loki said. His voice sounded strange and thick as he took the last step to close the distance between them and reached out. Steve’s clone did not flinch back from his touch, but did not react to it either. His skin was warm and Loki felt himself shudder.

“You aren’t one of them,” the clone said. “One of my masters.”

“No,” Loki said. “I am not.” He summoned his magic, letting it tingle on his fingertips. The clone’s eyes half closed and he swayed.

“What is that? It feels-”

“I am sorry,” Loki said, tongue almost stumbling on the words, and sent a burst of pure, concentrated energy into the clone’s brain.

Its eyes rolled back and it went limp. Loki could not stop himself from catching it, a small sound escaping him. He wanted to vomit, or scream, or die.

He lowered the corpse to the floor. The concrete was hard and cold under his knees and he swayed, a faint hiccup hitching in his throat. _I am sorry._ He had not had a chance to say any last words to Steve, and if he had been able to – these felt inadequate, and foolish. A part of him wanted to weep but no tears came.

James found him what might have been hours or minutes later. Loki felt him recoil. “It wasn’t him,” Loki said. His voice sounded dead, toneless. “They cloned him. I almost…but it wasn’t him.” He hiccupped again, and for an awful moment thought he would vomit.

“Christ,” James said. He didn’t seem able to look away.  “That’s…fuck.”

_I am so tired,_ Loki thought. _What if I just lie down here and we can both burn, this facsimile of Steve and me._

_Not yet,_ he reminded himself. _Not yet. There is still a little more you have to do, before…_

James gripped his arm and pulled. “Get up,” he said, voice rough. “I already set the charges to take this whole place down. We need to go.”

Loki made himself respond, made himself get up and gather his magic. James was still staring at the corpse; Loki watched him tear his eyes away and swallow hard. “Tell me I should not have killed him,” Loki said. “Tell me I should have taken him with us.”

James swallowed again, staring past Loki. “No,” he said after a long moment. “You were right. It wasn’t him.” His metal fingers dug into Loki’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Loki pulled them both away. _It wasn’t him,_ he told himself again, and wished there wasn’t a part of his mind that murmured _but perhaps it could be better than nothing._

* * *

Back in his sanctuary, Loki lowered himself onto the couch. He felt raw all over again, and there was something hysterical clawing at the base of his throat ( _you killed Steve, just like you always knew you would, now you’ve seen him dead twice_ ) that he swallowed with difficulty. Only in its place there rose up the image of the clone’s staring dead eyes that were also Steve’s and Loki barely made it to the bathroom in time to empty his stomach into the toilet.

He heaved a long time after his guts were empty, and even when it ended tears were dripping from his eyes, his nose burning. He wished he could keep going, vomit everything up until he was truly hollow and felt nothing at all.

He washed his face and rinsed his mouth. When he turned, James was standing just over the threshold, his expression tight. “I am fine,” Loki said, almost snapped.

“I’m not,” James said, short and blunt. “I just saw what looked an awful lot like my best friend’s dead body.” Loki almost flinched, a nasty voice at the back of his mind whispering _selfish, thoughtless._

“I…am sorry,” he made himself say. James grimaced and looked away.

“Don’t,” he said, voice odd. He stopped and said a little more quietly, “don’t apologize. I know it wasn’t him. Like I said. It’s just…HYDRA was cloning him. Cloning _Steve._ We only found one but how many other facilities are there, how many…” James trailed off and rubbed a hand over his mouth. “It feels – it makes me sick. That they did that to him. Trying to – trying to make weapons out of him. That’s not _Steve._ ”

Loki knew what he meant. It felt like a desecration, a violation, profaning Steve in that way. But then the staring dead eyes were back in his mind and the nausea still roiling in his stomach had a different source. “I should have destroyed them all,” he mumbled. “When Sin took him…or else after SHIELD fell.” It was beginning to come home to him, all over again, that Steve was gone and he would not be coming back, that eventually his vengeance would be done and then...the future stretched ahead, vast and shapeless.

He had always assumed that he would die first. It had only seemed natural, given all his enemies in the Nine Realms and beyond, given that he had already cheated the Norns of his life twice over. He had feared for Steve’s life, of course, but even if the worst came a part of him had thought that he could take Steve’s place and die well, a hero’s death.

His foolish heart, clinging to a child’s optimism. He ought to have known better. The Norns were crueler than that.

“What will you do?” Loki asked. His voice sounded dull and hollow. “When this is over and HYDRA is dead.”

“I don’t know,” James said after a long silence. “I haven’t thought about it much. Assuming we both make it through…” James exhaled. “I’m not exactly big on the idea of going back to that facility, going under lockdown and observation…if they’d even let me and not just throw me in a cell. Pretty sure it was only Steve’s interference that kept that from happening.” Loki did not miss the way James’s voice hitched slightly on Steve’s name. Even more than him, Loki thought, James was isolated in this world. Cut off from everything he knew. “Maybe…no, I don’t know. There’s Sam, I guess, but I don’t know how he’d feel about harboring a fugitive.”

“More charitable than you would think, I would wager.” Wilson. Loki felt a pang of guilt for not thinking of him before. He might not count Wilson as a friend, but he knew Steve did, and he remembered in those vague, foggy first weeks that Wilson had been…kind.

James shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t…know a whole lot about this world, you know? I’ve barely lived in it at all.”

Loki glanced at his hands, curled loosely in his lap. “You are clever enough. You will learn. Adjust.”

“Maybe.” He could feel James looking at him. “What about you?”

_There is no after, for me. There has never been an after. There was nothing, and then there was this and when it is gone…_ “I do not know either.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not planning on running off on some stupid kamikaze thing the minute we finish, are you?”

Loki laughed, but it came out a touch strangled. “Does that seem like the sort of thing I would do?”

“Yes.” James’s voice was blunt. “That seems like exactly the kind of stupid, hare-brained idea you might come up with.”

“You think very little of me,” Loki said, trying to smile. James did not look convinced.

“I get it,” he said. “I do.” Loki held back the urge to snarl, to ask _do you?_ He could not truly argue. “It’s like…” He looked away, throat working. “It’s Steve. And he’s gone. And it doesn’t feel like-” James broke off, swallowing hard, and Loki was glad. His skin felt raw enough already without the sandpaper of James’s grief scraping across it.

_I am a coward,_ Loki wanted to say. _I am afraid of what I will become without him. I have burned so many bridges,_ but there was Thor, and Romanov’s words, _you’re killing Thor. He’s terrified for you._ For, not of. Thor, following him in the first days of his grief, hovering near at hand, holding him when he lay awake shaking but unable to cry. It should be enough.

But he hurt. He hurt so _badly_ and he could not imagine it ever lessening, and could not imagine trying to live with this great gaping emptiness in his core. It would be better…

“I don’t have a lot here,” James said, suddenly, not looking at Loki. “I had Steve, and…Sam’s…a friend. And there’s you. I’d rather not…be down two out of three in less than a year.”

Something in Loki ached. “I make a poor friend, Sergeant Barnes.”

“I dunno. You haven’t been too bad to me so far.” The fingers of James’s metal hand twitched at his side. “I guess we might be jumping the gun, though. We still have to survive through this. Kill Crossbones and Strucker and the rest.”

Loki’s smile felt humorless. “You make it sound shorter than I intend it to be.”

“As long as you leave some for me.” James pushed himself up and did look at Loki for a moment before stepping forward and offering a hand. Loki took it and pulled himself to his feet, turning to rinse his mouth out in the sink.

“I would not dream of depriving you of the pleasure.” To his surprise, James clasped his shoulder – with his flesh hand, not the metal one, and gave him a crooked smile.

“You can be kind of a bastard sometimes, but you’re not bad,” he said. “I can see why Steve likes…liked you.”

“I could say the same of you,” Loki said. His own smile felt lopsided and strained, but he meant the words. He wished…he could not quite shape what he would have wished. That things had been different, in so many ways. _Ah, Steve, if you were here…_

Thinking of Steve hurt too much and he pushed the thought aside. James dropped his hand and stepped back.

“Ah,” Loki added after a moment. “It occurs to me that perhaps I should mention that I would rather you did not die, either.”

“Doing my best, sir,” James said, with a mock salute. _Both of us,_ Loki thought. _Fragmented pieces inside a fragile whole. He clings to you because he is afraid of being alone. He does not know how empty you are, how little of you is left, how much of you died with Steve._

( _You will only fail him. You fail everyone, eventually._ )

Loki closed his eyes and the dead clone flashed in front of them. He wished he could go back and tell his past self to do better, to be better. Not to fight, not to argue, to try harder to be something like what Steve deserved, because soon he would die and all Loki could think of were the memories of everything he’d done wrong.

It _hurt,_ and Loki wondered how much it would take before he simply stopped breathing to get away.

* * *

There were six of them in a house in the countryside. Or perhaps more accurately, there had been six of them. Now there were six dead bodies, the table with its skull and tentacles broken down the middle. Loki stood still for a moment and breathed.

James bent down and picked up a tablet, wiping the blood off the screen with the woman’s sleeve. “Look who they were talking about,” he said with a humorless smile. Loki glanced at the photo. He recognized himself, Barnes at his side with his metal hand around a man’s neck.

“Nice to know that our efforts were noticed,” Loki murmured. James laughed, almost silently. “Well. They needn’t worry any longer.”

James tapped a few buttons on the tablet and began going through it. “Guess not.” After a moment he dropped the tablet, grimacing. “Nothing much useful on there. Most of the contacts are already scratched off.”

“That doesn’t matter. We have the one we need.” Loki closed his eyes for a moment and felt the corners of his lips tip upwards slightly. He heard James’s breath catch.

“Crossbones. You know-”

“Brock Rumlow,” Loki said. “That is his name.”

He could hear the frown in James’s voice. “I know him. Or, well – familiar with him. He was there when I…” He trailed off, and Loki glanced at him. For a moment James’s expression was blank, but then it cleared and he grimaced, something ugly flaring in his eyes. “Former SHIELD agent,” he said, voice a little short. “Not that exceptional, except that he was always a bastard.”

Loki almost envied James for having a face to link to the name. He had only the name, the faceless image of the man who had murdered Steve, ambushed him in a cowardly attack because he must have known in a fair fight he could never hope to win, shot him seven times in the chest and run. His blood felt hot and he recognized the feeling from hunts on Asgard: the knowledge that the chase was coming to a close and soon the hunting party would close with the quarry. Blood would flow. In a good hunt, not only from the prey. “He does not need to be exceptional.”

“I’m just surprised he’s even still alive,” James said. “He was right in the thick of everything when…in D.C.” His expression darkened. “I guess he survived. I knew he was special ops, but I didn’t think he was… _special_ enough to send after Captain America.”

“And us,” Loki said. “Or that was their goal, I suspect. The target of their discussion.” His heart was pounding in his ears and his voice sounded strange, far away. “I almost wish we had let them. They would have sent him straight to us. And then…oh, then.” He half closed his eyes, picturing it. He could almost _taste_ the blood.

He had a name. Sooner or later he would run this _Brock Rumlow_ to ground. He would begin by severing his hands and cauterizing the stumps. Perhaps his feet as well, so he could not run. Gouge out his eyes and carve him apart one piece at a time, but leave the tongue intact, that way he could _scream_ -

“—Loki?” James sounded nervous. Loki turned toward him and smiled, but he only tensed more, looking as though he was bracing for a fight. “Uh – something happen?”

“Pardon?” Loki asked. His voice sounded strange in his own ears, a strange current to it. James licked his lips and shifted slightly as though he was considering running.

“You still here?” Something in James’s voice, a combination of fear and – _worry,_ tugged at something in Loki and he felt something jar loose. His vision cleared, slightly and he shook his head, the red-tinged haze fading.

“Yes?” He said, and then repeated it to make it less of a question. “Yes.” He felt slightly shaken, surprised by the strength of his own reaction.

James did not relax immediately. “For a second you looked a little…” he made a vague gesture by his eyes. Loki choked down the urge to laugh. His smile felt sharp.

“Mad?” James winced but didn’t argue. “Perhaps I am, a little. I feel it, at times.” He turned away, feeling James’s eyes on his neck. “So we have a name, but no location.”

James was quiet for a moment too long. “Yeah,” he said, finally. “Are you…good for this?”

_Am I?_ If anger overwhelmed him at the wrong moment…but no. He could keep it contained until it was time. Could control himself long enough to reach his quarry. ( _Their_ quarry, a small voice at the back of Loki’s mind reminded him. You are not alone in this, and it is not only your vengeance to take.) “I am fine.”

“Uh huh.” James did not sound convinced. “Just fine. That’s why you looked like you were going to lose it and your hands started getting all glowy for a minute there.” Loki blinked. He did not remember taking hold of his magic, and the realization touched a faint note of alarm.

“I am not going to hurt _you,_ ” Loki said after a moment.

“For a second there it didn’t look like you _saw_ me.” James took a step toward him, eyebrows pulled together. “You were somewhere else. If you need-”

“What I _need,_ ” Loki interrupted, hearing the harsh note in his voice but not quite having the will to control it, “is Brock Rumlow’s shattered, bleeding body at my feet. _That_ will soothe my savage heart.” James frowned, and Loki held back the urge to snarl. “Are you having second thoughts, Barnes? Reconsidering our course?”

“No,” James said at once, without the slightest hesitation. “That’s not – what I’m thinking. I’m just wondering-”

“If I am mad,” Loki interrupted.

“You keep throwing that around,” James said, a little harshly. “Not me. Maybe I’m _starting_ to wonder.”

“Are you?” Loki snapped back. Something in him vibrated, impossibly tense. He and James stared at each other for a long moment. James broke it first, looking away.

“We’re on the same side,” he said, quietly, and Loki felt himself deflate.

“I know it. I am…” He had to fight for a moment, to make his tongue shape the words. “I am sorry. I am not…I am, perhaps, less than entirely stable.” He laughed, dryly. “I would not expect that to come as a surprise.”

“You broke me out of an asylum,” James said. “I don’t think either of us is exactly ‘entirely stable.’ As long as you’re with me.”

“I am,” Loki said. “That has not – will not change. Unless you decide that Rumlow does not need to die. Then we may have a problem.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” James said.

“Then we should be just fine.” Loki tried to smile. He did not think he managed anything other than a grotesque mockery. _Brock Rumlow. We are coming for you. I wonder if you know it. If you can feel it, if you are afraid._ “Shall we go?”

“Sure,” James said, glancing once more at the carnage around him. “We’re not quite done yet.”

“Almost,” Loki said. He held out his hand, palm up. James crossed over to him, apparently untroubled by having to step over bodies in his path. He paused.

“It’s funny,” he said. “These were the people I worked for.”

“The people who enslaved you,” Loki said, briefly (distantly) surprised by his own correction – even a brief flare of anger. James made a face and shrugged.

“They gave the orders I followed. When I was…in that place, where you found me. I thought about killing them sometimes.”

“Is it anything like you thought it would be?” Loki asked. He wondered if James had imagined it with Steve at his side.

“Yes and no.” James frowned at one of the corpses. “I thought it would be harder.”

“Anyone can die,” Loki said, thinking of Steve. Based on the way James’s expression shifted, he might be as well.

“Yeah,” James said after a moment. “I guess that’s true.” He grasped Loki’s hand, grip surprisingly strong. “Let’s go. We have more hunting to do.”

* * *

The leaders of HYDRA were dead in their wake, save one: Baron von Strucker, based in a small nation called Sokovia. Apparently he was in the midst of some project or another; Loki had not paid much heed to the details. They were close, so close. Strucker and Rumlow remained, and perhaps a few other scattered remnants, leaderless and lost. _It is almost finished,_ Loki thought, and was not certain if it was with relief or dread.

The fortress in Sokovia was protected by an energy shield, but a touch of magic let him and James pass through it, and then it was simply a matter of killing everything that moved. James took the perimeter, moving upwards, and Loki moved inwards and downwards, calling Strucker’s name as he strode through narrow hallways.

He let his magic blast a door off its hinges the moment before he stepped through – and stopped, his breath catching in his chest. Hanging in the center of a vast, open room, littered with what looked like the wreckage of half completed experiments (Loki thought of Doom with a chill), hung the skeleton of one of the Chitauri leviathans, suspended in the air, and even though it was only dry bone, for a moment Loki tasted copper and fear.

_But of course,_ he thought distantly. SHIELD must have claimed what was left of the Chitauri when they fell with the death of their hive-ship. And HYDRA had nested within shield like a wasp in a caterpillar. They would have had access to such…things. Though what business they might have with it, other than perhaps to impress…

Loki wondered if they had managed to extract the venom of the Chitauri. Mortals were adept at creating weapons.

“Baron!” Loki called, amplifying his voice with a touch of magic and letting it echo. “I am quite _disappointed._ I would almost imagine that you are avoiding me.” He prowled forward under the shadow of the leviathan, trying not to think – he could almost hear the Other’s hissed threats in his ear. What, he wondered, had they been doing here? There was a pedestal, near the center, but it was empty. Loki kept his head turning, wary of traps. He had seen dreadful things before, in other HYDRA strongholds, but this one reminded him too much of both Thanos’s empty asteroid and the chambers where Doom had performed his experiments.

But Strucker was here somewhere. Loki knew James would not have allowed him to get away. (Unless they had moved too slowly, and he had been gone before they arrived.)

Loki continued moving forward. “My dear Baron. I merely would like a… _conversation._ Surely we can both be reasonable men.” He let his lips peel back from his teeth. “You must know the rest of your followers are already dead or dying. Will you continue to scrabble and hide like a mouse, or come out and face your death with pride?”

He paused at the pedestal, examining it. Something felt…familiar, some echo, like a taste on the back of his tongue that he could not quite name.

“Come out, Baron von Strucker,” Loki murmured. “The longer you make me wait…the longer I will make you wait to die.”

He caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, toward the tail of the leviathan. Loki felt his lips curve. _There you are,_ he thought, and turned, striding toward it.

He felt the catch on the floor too late, did not stop soon enough. Something stabbed through his foot, and even as Loki moved to rip free a man stood from behind a bank of boxes, a weapon leveled in Loki’s direction, and fired.

It was like being struck by Thor’s lightning, directed into a single bolt straight into his chest. Loki’s muscles seized in spasms and he fell, thrashing like an eel in a fisherman’s trap. _You fool, you fool,_ he thought wildly, struggling to regain control of his body, but his muscles would not answer his command.

“Loki,” said an unfamiliar man’s voice. “I have been expecting you.”

Loki’s head fell to the side, muscles still quivering, and trying to reach for his magic it twisted out of his reach. Someone was moving toward him – Strucker, Loki thought, it must be. He was holding-

_Oh. Oh no._

His scepter. Glowing and blue. The mortals had kept his scepter, and SHIELD had as good as _given_ it to these fools, _given_ it to _Steve’s murderers._

Loki tried to move but his muscles still would not respond, his magic still not answering. The pulse that had hit him left him paralyzed on his back as Strucker closed on him, the scepter in his hand. He stood over Loki and if Loki could goad him into speaking more, get himself a little more time-

The man was no fool. He set the tip of the scepter to Loki’s heart and flicked a switch on the modified shaft.

Loki felt the magic surge and sweep into him. For a moment, he could have fought it, could have struggled against that power with his own however futile it would be – perhaps could have delayed long enough to lash out, knock Strucker aside and disrupt the flow of power. For a moment, he might have been able to escape, if he had tried.

He felt himself – surrender. It was not so much a choice as it was…inevitable. In that moment, he wanted it. Wanted the peace that magic would give him. It would take away everything, take away all the grief and the pain and the shattered pieces of his heart whispered _yes, yes, what has freedom gained you, what has following your own will ever gained you_ and so he did not fight the magic as it coiled around his heart.

He heard the sound of a gunshot and the scepter fell away, the magic dissipating, uncoiling. Strucker staggered back and fell with a dull thud, a red circle in the center of his forehead.

For a moment Loki felt nothing but bitter disappointment.

“Loki!” James’s voice sounded – scared, worried, but Loki could not move and did not speak. “Loki, answer me!”

“James,” Loki managed to say finally. “I am…fine.” He tested his foot against whatever had stabbed through it and worked it slowly free, teeth gritted, feeling blood pool in his boot. He looked at Strucker lying dead on the ground, and the scepter not a few feet from him.

A moment later James dropped down from somewhere above next to him, crouching down and bending over. “What was he trying to do,” he asked, glancing at the scepter with obvious wariness.

“Take over my mind,” Loki said. His voice sounded strangely dispassionate, and he almost wished he felt the rage that flashed so clearly over James’s face. “Your arrival was…timely.”

“Can you get up?”

“With help,” Loki said, moving his arm slowly. James took it and pulled him to his feet. Loki looked toward the scepter. “It used to be mine,” he said, after a moment. “Or – no. It was given to me.”

He could feel James give him a sharp look. “Who did you use it on?” He asked after a moment.

“You know Agent Barton, I suppose?” He caught James’s nod, more of a jerk of his head than anything. “Him, a man named Erik Selvig, and a few other agents of SHIELD I did not get to know.” Loki glanced at James sidelong. “Does that change how you feel about me?”

“Are you going to do it again?” James asked.

Loki considered. It might be useful, he thought. Having that ability again. Might even help in their hunt. He thought of Steve, though, the look on his face of horror and disappointment. Thought, oddly, of Barton, who still watched Loki as though he expected his own mind to betray him.

After a moment Loki shook his head. “No,” he said. “I do not intend to.”

“Then I’ll try not to hold it against you.” James took a deep breath. “We can’t just leave it there, though.” He stepped forward and Loki caught his arm.

“Don’t touch it,” he said. “It may not…be safe.” He took a deep breath. “No. It stays here.”

James turned to stare at him. “You’re joking.”

“No.” Loki turned, looking at the skeleton of the leviathan. “It will not stay hidden forever, and it cannot be destroyed by any means I know. If I keep it the temptation to use it will be too great. We will bury it.”

James relaxed, minutely. “Bury it,” he repeated. “All right.”

“We can all hope,” Loki said, his voice sounding odd and hollow, “that the damned thing stays there.”

Watching the fortress implode on itself from the treeline, James shifted slightly. “Now Rumlow,” he said. Loki nodded.

“And now Brock Rumlow.”

A part of his heart whispered _if only Barnes had been a moment later, you could have been at peace. You would not need to suffer any more._ Loki smothered it. There was more than one way to peace, and he did not truly want the road that lay with serving his lover’s enemies.

One way or another, this would soon be over. From there…he would find his way from there.

* * *

“So,” James asked, heating a can of soup with a half an eye on Loki. “We have a name. How are we going to use the name to find the man?”

Loki finished rifling through another drawer and closed it, opening the next and half smiling when he found what he was looking for. “A divining ritual.” He whispered the password for the lock and opened the small black box, running his fingers lightly over the neatly sorted items inside.

“A divining ritual,” James said, sounding not quite incredulous. “You’re…all right. Still getting used to this magic thing. How does that work?”

“There are…thin places,” Loki said, pulling out a small, black velvet bag. “I go to one, make a sacrifice, and ask the Norns for what I wish to know.” He could feel James’s eyes on the back of his neck.

“You mean _we_ go to one of these places.” Loki shrugged. “What kind of sacrifice?”

“Don’t fret. I do not have to drain a child of blood, or whatever you are thinking. A bit of my own blood and this-” He held up the bag- “should satisfy.”

“And these Norns,” James said slowly. “Who are they?”

“A good question.” Loki turned, half smiling. “And one a great number of thinkers have tried to answer over the years, to no avail. _What_ might be a better word than _who,_ though.” An expression of profound discomfort passed over James’s features, and Loki huffed a mirthless laugh. “Do not worry. You will not have to interact with them at all, should all go well.”

“And if it doesn’t go well?” James asked. Loki held out a hand.

“Hope that it doesn’t,” he said mildly. “I read about one sorcerer who attempted this sort of ritual without proper preparation and was never seen again. Most likely superstitious nonsense, but…”

James looked like he wanted to shiver, but he took Loki’s hand.

Loki pulled them both through space and did not pause before striding forward toward the mouth of the cave in front of them. James caught his upper arm before he got far. “Wait,” he said, voice suddenly harsh. “Are you sure…there’s probably less risky ways to do this.”

Loki half turned. “Perhaps. Less risky, but slower, and less reliable.”

James still hesitated, not letting go. “Back there…with Strucker.” James paused, and Loki turned more fully to face him.

“I am still fully in command of my own mind, if you are wondering,” Loki said, but James grimaced and shook his head.

“That’s not…never mind.” He blew out a breath. “Just wondering if maybe you’re being a little reckless, that’s all.”

Loki laughed. “Reckless? I?” He flashed his teeth in something like a smile. “What an odd accusation to hear from you. I was given to understand that you are not usually the soul of caution.”

“Never said I was,” James said. “But…ah, never mind. Let’s get this over with. This place is making my skin crawl.”

“You can feel it, then,” Loki said. For himself, it was a faint tingle on his skin, magic woven so thick he could almost taste it. “You may stay here, if you wish.” He tugged his arm gently free and strode forward. After a moment he heard a muttering behind him and James’s footsteps, following.

He could hear the dripping of water at the back of the cave well before he reached it, standing at the edge of a deep, clear sink of water, the patterns of its motion reflected on the ceiling above. Loki paused and then sat down, beginning to unlace his boots and pull them off.

“What are you doing?” James sounded nervous.

“I do not intend to go swimming fully clothed,” Loki said mildly. “I told you that you need not accompany me.” He set his boots aside and began working on his tunic, unbuckling the straps and setting it aside, neatly folded.

“I’m not leaving you in a cave to do potentially dangerous magic alone,” James said stubbornly. Loki half smiled, feeling a stab of pain as he thought how in that moment he could hear Steve in James’s voice – or perhaps it was James he heard in Steve’s. Loki stood and stripped off his pants. The air felt cold on his skin, but only vaguely.

He summoned the black velvet bag and opened it, pouring the contents out into his hand – a small packet tied together with dried leather. James edged closer, peering at it. “What’s that?”

“Nothing you want to know,” Loki murmured. He worked moisture into his mouth, grimaced, and popped the whole thing in his mouth, swallowing quickly. He still caught a burst of sour flavor before it was gone and coughed, nose wrinkling. James jerked back.

“What-”

“To keep me safe,” Loki said. “Just in case.” He summoned a knife and braced himself before slashing open his wrist. He dropped the knife with a clatter and extended his arm over the water, clenching his fist to encourage the blood to run out faster.

“Loki,” James said, jerking forward, but he held up his other hand to forestall him.

“Hear me,” Loki murmured, “oh Norns. Grant me the wisdom I seek. Let my bone, blood, and breath be yours, that I may know what you know.” Loki paused, and licked his lips, watching his blood sink into the water in ink-like patterns. “James. If I do not…return as myself within the hour…” He paused. “Go. This area is…remote, but not beyond reach of civilization. There is a small village to the east, a half-day’s walk. Do not, under any circumstances, touch the water.”

“What do you mean, return as yourself?” Loki could hear the tension in James’s voice. “You didn’t say anything about-”

Loki tipped forward and dove into the water.

It engulfed him. He had a moment to be aware of the cold, and then he could not feel the water at all – he could feel everything else. It reminded him of the feeling when he had been falling through the Void for a long time and he had started to imagine that his body was giving way, that there was no boundary between him and the nothing, that he was expanding into everything and at the same time dissolving into nothing. But this time it wasn’t nothing. He was a part of something vast and impossible, a string in a tapestry, his entire being like one of the threads of energy that his magic manipulated. It would be so easy to get lost, to let go and simply ease into this flow.

Something brought him up short, tethering him, and Loki remembered why he was here.

_Tell me,_ he thought, or maybe said. _Where is Brock Rumlow?_

_Is that truly what you wish to know?_ It was a voice, or three voices, or no voice at all. Loki did not think he could have described it if anyone asked.

_Yes,_ he said, not wavering. _You who know all things, tell me-_

_You would not ask what has become of your lover?_ Steve’s image flashed into his mind – no, Steve was _there –_ reaching out for him, smiling (falling, dying, hands pressed to his chest and Loki could hear the sound of gunshots). _You would not know if he is at peace?_

The thin bonds holding him together wavered. Loki might have cried out. He might have wept. _Do not taunt me,_ he said, and felt himself vibrate with anger. _I asked my question. I made my offering._

_An offering to speak. A sacrifice to ask._ The currents around him tightened, tugging at him, tugging at the tether that held him safely to himself. _To take you must give. So give._ _A memory. Something precious._

Loki thought his breath might have caught, somewhere distant where he still had a body. _My memories are all I have._

_Memories or vengeance,_ they, or it, said. _Choose, Laufeyson._ Loki thought he could hear them laughing. Cold anger burned him, but only for a moment.

Loki sought and found one, bright and shining, lying in bed with Steve stroking his hair. _Take it,_ he hissed. _Take it and tell me what I wish to know._

He felt the memory being torn from him. For a moment, it blazed in his mind’s eye and he felt as though he were living it again, could feel the brush of Steve’s lips on his ear and the soft rhythm of his breathing – and then it was gone.

It was as though it had never been there at all. For a moment, Loki wanted to take it back. For another moment, he wished he could give them the rest, all the memories now tinged with pain. He walled both desires away, along with the pang of fresh loss.

_Ask,_ they whispered. _But carefully. So many things you might know._

_Brock Rumlow,_ Loki demanded. _Where?_

They did not tell him. From one moment to the next, he simply _knew._

_Now begone, little one,_ they said. _Your course is not yet finished._ He felt a _shove_ and gasped. His mouth filled with water and he was flailing in it, struggling up until he felt solid rock under his hands and coughed out water, sucking in ragged, wet breaths. His body felt simultaneously weak and like it was humming with energy, his ears ringing.

“-ki! _Loki!_ ” He realized slowly that James was hauling him out of the pool and trying to get his attention.

“Fine,” Loki managed. “I’m fine.” James looked shaken.

“You were under there for a good twenty-five minutes,” James hissed. “Under the _water._ Not breathing, not doing anything, just floating like a fucking corpse except every so often you’d twitch – Jesus _Christ,_ you goddamn bastard, give a fella a little more warning next time-”

Loki licked his lips and spat out another mouthful of water. “Rumlow is in Naples.”

James jerked. “So you – they told you?”

“After a fashion.” Loki pushed himself up to shaky hands and knees and stuck his fingers down the back of his throat. The talisman came up harder than it had gone down, and Loki coughed, picking it up delicately and putting it back in the bag. It had done its job. James looked disgusted, but he didn’t comment. “We should not wait-”

“Naples is a big city,” James said. “Do you know more specifically _where-_ “

“I know exactly where,” Loki said. He thought he would know if he forgot everything else entirely, where Rumlow could be found. He cast a quick drying spell, pulling the water out of his skin and hair and dropping it back in the pool. His teeth were chattering, but that was simply an aftereffect of the magic, he thought. “Let us go and finish this.”

“Loki,” James said lowly. Loki turned to him, and whatever James saw in his eyes it seemed to check what he’d been about to say. “—put your clothes on first,” he said instead. “You’re…all right. Right?”

_Less a memory,_ Loki thought, but he could not even remember now what the memory had been of. It was well and truly gone. He wondered grimly what the Norns did with it – if it fed them, somehow, or they simply basked in the reflected warmth. “I am fine.” He pushed himself to his feet and went to his carefully folded clothes, beginning to put them back on. “Though I think I like the Norns even less now than I did before.”

He saw James stiffen out of the corner of his eye. “Did they say something?”

Loki thought of the image of Steve, dying. Their mocking laughter. _Choose, Laufeyson._ “Nothing I should not have expected,” he said, coldly. The shivering was starting to ease. “Now come. Let us end this.”

* * *

In another time, Loki thought, he might have enjoyed Naples. It was beautiful, the kind of city he might have enjoyed exploring. With Steve, perhaps. They might have wandered arm in arm through the streets, perhaps unrecognized even without a glamor.

As it was, Loki hardly noticed much about the city beyond an initial impression. He had prey to track.

They found Rumlow buying himself lunch at a small shop. Loki could see the tension in his shoulders though he did not glance around himself, and Loki felt himself tense in response. Steve’s murderer, he thought. Standing in public, purchasing food as though he had any right to breathe-

A ringing started in Loki’s ears and he had to shake his head to clear it. James, standing next to him, both of them veiled from sight, was as tense as a wire. “Wait,” he’d said, voice flat and harsh, when Loki had started to move forward. Despite the flatness of the words, Loki could see the way James’s fingers twitched, his body so tense he almost trembled. “Too many people around and he’s not going to hesitate to use them as shields.”

_And I should care?_ Loki thought wildly, but subsided and watched. When Rumlow turned, James hissed in a breath. He was not wearing a mask, as Thor had said he had in the attack on Steve, which made his facial scarring amply obvious. He must have been burned fairly badly. A pity, Loki thought, that it hadn’t been worse.

Rumlow seemed to catch something out of the corner of his eye and turned again, walking away from them with a gait that was purposeful but not rushed. He and James trailed after, the gazes of passersby only occasionally lighting on them briefly before sliding away without recognition. Loki felt James tense every time someone seemed to look in their direction, but his eyes stayed, like Loki’s, on their target’s back.

“If he thinks someone’s following him he’s going to stick to heavily populated areas,” James murmured. “We need to get him somewhere quieter.”

“He should not know we are here,” Loki said, but he could tell by the way Rumlow moved, turning down narrow streets and pausing every so often, that he suspected pursuit of some kind.

“Might not be us he’s expecting,” James murmured. “Could be anyone. Maybe down towards the water…corner him on a dock somewhere…”

“Hush,” Loki said suddenly, because Rumlow was slowing and Loki realized too late that he was holding some sort of device in his right hand that Loki had taken to be a phone. Loki _felt_ his magic falter and Rumlow’s eyes focused suddenly on both him and James.

Loki bared his teeth and moved, lunging forward, but Rumlow already had a gun out and fired it in their direction. Loki threw up a shield to deflect the bullets, but Rumlow was already turning and running.

James bolted after him and Loki followed, throwing out a spell with a shout that caught Rumlow in the shoulder and sent him stumbling forward though he regained his footing a moment later. Rumlow was quick but Loki was quicker, and James was not far behind, the two of them gaining ground.

Rumlow burst out into an open square and wheeled. He fired at Loki but he hardly felt the sting, and he was dimly aware of the mortals around them scattering. Another shot whistled past his ear and Rumlow shouted, blood spraying from his hand as the gun fell. Loki snarled another spell, hardly hearing the words past the roaring in his ears, binding the man’s arms and yanking him off his feet into the air, and Loki was going to slit him open like a pig _to start with-_

He’d barely taken a step forward when something pinged loudly off the stones in front of his feet and Loki jerked back, looking up. The roaring in his ears was not his rage. There was a plane hovering above them. _Who,_ a part of Loki wondered, but most of him did not care about anything except for the fact that they were _in his way._

_No,_ Loki thought, _oh no. You will not take my vengeance from me._ Other mortals, clad in their odd sort of black armor, were emerging. A few trained their weapons on Rumlow, who was still struggling. Most kept their sights on him.

“Get away,” Loki snarled. His own voice sounded unfamiliar. “Your interference is unnecessary. This man is _mine._ ”

“I don’t think they’re going to buy that,” James said lowly, coming up beside him with his own weapon still on Rumlow.  His finger was on the trigger, Loki noticed. Ready to fire.

“I repeat: Loki, James Barnes, stand down,” Loki recognized the voice vaguely as Maria Hill’s, from a speaker somewhere above them. “We’re taking Rumlow into custody.”

Loki bared his teeth. “No, you are not. Get out of my way or I will tear all of you apart.”

“This doesn’t have to get ugly.” Stark, this time, touching down, hands raised but the weapons in the palms of his hands not lit. “Back off. We’ve got this under control.”

Loki let out a shrill laugh that sounded thoroughly mad. “I do not _care._ Do you understand that? This is not about control – _I want him dead._ ”

“Loki,” James said, his voice low. “I’ll back your move, but we might be outgunned.”

Stark shifted, posture still not quite threatening. “Oh, in case no one’s mentioned. There’s something you should maybe know first, before you-”

Loki lashed out, flinging a pulse of magic that shorted the power centers of Stark’s armor. He summoned a knife even as he heard the weapons on the plane click into gear. He would send Barnes away and then fight, Loki thought wildly. He did not need to survive, only for Rumlow to die, painful and bloody-

“All of you! Stand down!”

Loki’s heart stopped. His muscles locked into place. _No,_ he thought wildly. _No, they have not…_

He turned, slowly. James, he saw, had turned as well, was nearly gaping, eyes round as saucers. For a moment Loki thought he could not breathe.

It was Steve, limping forward from a vehicle that must have just arrived. He looked battered and bruised, exhausted and too thin. Sam Wilson was at his side, hovering like he had just been supporting him. _No,_ Loki thought. _It isn’t him. It is another clone, another perversion of HYDRA’s, he was dead, he was_ dead-

“Bucky,” Steve said, and then turned his head and he was looking at Loki, blue eyes slightly bloodshot but clear. “Loki. You fellas make a hard pair to catch up to.” He tried to smile. It looked a little strained – looked like _his_ smile. Loki _could_ not breathe. He could not remember _how._

“Steve?” James’s voice cracked and he took a step forward, gun dropping to his side and then from his hands. Loki wanted to tell him _don’t be fooled, it’s a trick, it has to be, I saw his dead body_ but his voice would not work. “You…”

“It’s me, Buck,” Steve said, and James almost lunged forward, flung himself at Steve (not Steve, it could not be Steve, _Steve was dead_ ) and embraced him, making a sort of laughing-crying noise.

“You son of a bitch,” James said. “You son of a – how long have you – Loki said – _fuck._ Steve-”

Loki licked his lips and shook his head. “It’s impossible,” he said. His voice sounded strange, not like his own. “You were dead. I felt you. I tried to – you were _dead,_ ” and his own voice broke, because this was too cruel, too _cruel_ and he could not do this again, could not survive a third time-

Steve patted James’s back and he released him, obviously reluctantly, hovering nearby only to turn to look at Loki, his face painfully open. Steve took a step toward Loki and Loki stepped back.

“Loki,” Steve said. “I’m not dead. HYDRA ambushed me, but they took me back alive. The body…” He swallowed, looking briefly uncertain. “The body they left…it was a copy. A clone.”

_A clone would not know you,_ Loki’s brain whispered. _Would not remember you, or Barnes. Remember how the other one was. It would be a clever trick, to make everyone think the Captain was dead, let them hold him with impunity without fear of someone coming to seek him…his injuries have the mark of captivity._ Loki pulled in a breath but it felt like a death rattle.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me something – only you would know.”

The look in Steve’s eyes hurt. Sorrow and pain and – guilt? Loki did not want to hold it and could not look away. “One of the things you brought back from Asgard,” he said. “It was a book – a history of the Nine Realms. You almost didn’t keep it, but you did. You’ve been teaching me the runes so I can read it.”

Loki took a shuddering breath. His chest hurt, _ached._

“Loki,” Steve said gently, reaching out a hand. “It’s me. I’m not…I’m all right.”

If this was a lie, Loki thought, he could not hold against it. Could not resist it. He took a wobbling step forward and then another, and another and he was holding Steve, face pressed into his hair, arms wrapped around his (too thin) shoulders, his body warm and solid and _real,_ his heart beating against Loki’s chest, and Loki felt himself shatter.

“Steve,” he said, barely able to speak through the wracking sobs. “ _Steve,_ ” and he could manage nothing more, but Steve’s hands rubbed his back and murmured _shh, shh,_ and oh Norns, he was shaming himself but he could not hold on, could not stay standing any longer.

“It’s time to go home,” Steve said, his voice gentle and rough, and Loki could feel wetness on his shoulder. “Rumlow’s in custody. It’s time for us to go home.”

_Home,_ Loki thought. _I can. I can go home._

The eggshell of strength he’d been clinging to was in ruins. He still could scarcely breathe. His hollow inside felt as though it had collapsed in on itself. He was crumbling like a building whose foundations had dissolved and he thought he might fall. His world had been shattered so many times, most recently looking at what he had believed was Steve’s body lying cold and empty. And now it was shattered again. Loki thought he ought to feel joy, but he was not certain he remembered how.

But Steve was alive. Alive and breathing.

Loki could think of nothing else.

“Come on,” Steve said, “let’s go home.”

* * *

They took the Quinjet. Steve sank into one of the seats with a groan, and Wilson pounced on him almost at once, muttering something that did not sound complimentary. James, hovering nearby and staring at Steve with blatant hunger, frowned. “You’re hurt,” he said, sounding accusatory, and then shook himself. “I mean – obviously. But you should be _resting._ ”

Steve did not look in the least sheepish. “I wasn’t going to stay behind when Tony said he’d finally found you. I’ll be all right.” James scowled.

“How long,” Loki asked. His voice still sounded strange and he felt as though he dared not look away, in case Steve disappeared. The way Steve kept looking at him, full of concern, did not make him feel any steadier. “How long have you been…back?”

“Ten days,” Wilson said before Steve could answer. “We’ve been trying to make contact with you but _you_ ditched your phone,” that to Loki, and oh, Wilson was displeased with him, “and it looks like neither of you bothered to look at the news. We’ve been splashing it all over the airwaves in the hopes of getting your attention, but apparently…” Loki felt a pang. Ten days. He could have known ten days ago, if he had not…

He felt another chill, realizing that if Steve had been held by HYDRA and they had not found him…that meant they had not been so thorough as he had believed. The organization might not be wholly finished after all. And more – if he had been looking, if he had helped, might Steve have been found sooner? He pushed that thought aside, unimportant in the face of _Steve being alive._

(Every time he thought that, his heart seemed to mend a small bit more.)

“Ten days,” James echoed, and Loki could see him assessing Steve again, thinking about what his injuries must have looked like ten days ago. “Steve, I…” He swallowed, looking uncertain and off-balance again. Steve turned his head to give him a very small smile.

“Buck,” he said, “it’s fine. Well – maybe not _completely_ fine, but you don’t need to say anything. We’re good.” Those words, Loki thought, might well be meant for him too, but he did not ask. When Steve’s eyes turned back to him, his smile faded, but to Loki’s relief he did not ask. Not here, not in front of others.

They landed at the Tower. “We’re going to stay here at least for the night,” Steve said, and a part of Loki half expected that it would be in a cell, but he and James were installed instead in neighboring guest rooms. Not so expansive as his former suite, but they were not a prison either. “I’ll be back soon,” Steve promised. He hugged James and kissed Loki’s lips, hesitating a moment longer like he was going to say something before turning away.

James followed Loki into his room instead of going into his own.

“He’s alive,” he said, and made an odd sort of laughing noise. “ _Jesus._ I can’t…” He grinned, shaking his head, looking almost giddy. Loki sat down, not trusting his suddenly shaking legs.

Everything was hitting him all at once, now, the grief he’d been trying to keep at bay, the overwhelming relief of Steve’s living, the guilt at knowing that what he’d done…he had thought it, had he not? _Steve would not want this. Steve would not want me to do this._ It had not mattered then, because Steve was dead, but now he was not and a part of Loki could not help but think _he is alive but you are still going to lose him._

“Loki?” James seemed to realize that his giddiness was not shared, and Loki wondered when it would hit him as well, that Loki had made him a murderer again. He hoped Steve would forgive him, at least. Perhaps Loki could emphasize that he had preyed on James’s vulnerability, dragged him into it…

_What is wrong with you, that you cannot even be happy?_ A voice murmured at the back of his mind, and he _was_ happy, Steve was _alive_ and that was all that truly mattered, and yet…

“It is nothing,” he made himself say.

“Try the other one,” James said. Loki could almost hear his frown. “You don’t look – do you still think this is a trick?”

Loki did not know how to answer, and he was grateful, for once, that he was spared having to by Thor’s breathless voice saying “ _brother,_ ” and being swept up in an embrace that nearly crushed his ribs. “You are here, you have returned, oh _Norns_ Loki I thought you intended-”

“Thor,” Loki said, and he felt himself slump into Thor’s embrace, his eyes starting to burn again in spite of himself. His brother released him but only to grasp his shoulders, and even with his steadying grip Loki nearly staggered.

“When I woke and you were gone-” Thor’s expression flashed between anger and relief. “I was gladdened to hear that James Barnes had disappeared as well, that you were not alone. But that you ran – that you would not speak to me, that you would not _tell_ me what you intended, Loki-”

“I could not,” Loki said. His voice sounded weak. “You deserved better than the kind of destruction I intended. I did not wish…and I knew you would fear for me.”

“And I _did,_ ” Thor said loudly. “Every day, I feared that I would hear of your fall, or else that I would not. As for deserving better-” There was a brief, faintly savage gleam in Thor’s eyes. “Do you think I did not _exult_ every time we heard of another nest of those vipers destroyed? That I did not envy you the joy of their bones shattering at your hand?” Loki felt, for a brief moment, almost ashamed.

“Huh,” James said, suddenly, his voice quiet. “That’s vivid.” Thor seemed to realize abruptly that there was another in the room.

“You must be James Barnes,” he said, shaking himself a little and releasing Loki – but only with one hand, Loki noticed. “I am sorry I did not greet you immediately. I am Thor Odinson.”

“Loki’s…” James hesitated, with a glance at him, and Loki shrugged. “Brother,” James finished, and after a moment offered Thor his flesh hand. Thor took it, clasping his forearm. “Nice to meet you.”

“The Captain speaks of you a great deal.” James’s expression did something odd, at that: like he was warring between embarrassment and pride. Thor’s smile was almost soft. “And I am grateful to you for being my brother’s shield-companion these months past. He does not like to admit it, but it is good to have someone to watch your back in a battle.”

“Shield-companion, huh?” James said, with a glance at Loki. He did not deny it. “I’d be dead six times over if it weren’t for having _Loki_ at my back.”

“You sell yourself short,” Loki murmured. “Perhaps only twice over.”

James laughed, his soundless, through the nose chuckle. Thor released his arm and looked back at Loki. “Even just to know that he was not alone…I thank you, James Barnes. And I owe you a debt.”

Loki looked away, uncomfortable. “Thor…”

“I understand why you believed you needed to do this without my aid,” Thor said, stepping back towards him, hand squeezing Loki’s shoulder. Loki had to keep himself from trying to step back, folding his arms around his body without deciding to do so. “But I wish you had given me a chance at least to wish you well.”

Loki bit the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes. “I am sorry,” he said after a long moment. “To have…caused you to fear. To have doubted you.”

“Your apology is not needed, for you are already forgiven.” Thor grasped his shoulders again and gave Loki a little shake, making him look back to meet his brother’s eyes. “But Frigga…our mother. You wounded her also.”

“I know.” Loki swallowed. “I will…make that right. If I can.”

“You will,” Thor agreed. Loki ducked his head and leaned into Thor until he moved one hand to clasp the back of Loki’s neck. “Brother…I am glad you are back.”

_For how long?_ A dark corner of Loki’s mind wondered. _Will you be allowed to stay here, now that the Captain knows you are what you always were?_

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway, and Thor released Loki as he pulled away, turning. It was Steve, standing there leaning on crutches. “Hey,” he said. “Do you folks mind if I talk to Loki for a minute? Privately?”

“Of course not,” Thor said at once. He gave Loki’s shoulder one more squeeze, and smiled at him in a way that made Loki’s suddenly pounding heart ache. He turned to James. “Would you like to come with me to the kitchen? I am going to prepare some food, and would be pleased to share.”

James looked a little poleaxed for a moment, but he recovered admirably. “Sure,” he said. “I could eat.” He stepped forward, hesitating in front of Loki, and then gave him a quick hug with a slap on the back. “It’s going to be fine,” he said lowly, just for Loki’s hearing, and then pulled away and followed Thor toward the door. He paused again by Steve and leaned in, saying something quietly enough that even Loki’s ears could not quite catch it.

Then he stepped out and closed the door, and he and Steve were alone.

Steve let out a breath. “Are you all right?” He asked, before Loki could say anything. “You’re not – injured or anything, are you?”

“No,” Loki said, faintly startled. “I am not – come, you should sit. _You_ are, should you even be up and about like this-”

Steve made a face at him that was so familiar it hurt, though it faded quickly. “All right, I’ll take you up on that. But only if you sit with me.”

“Very well,” Loki said slowly. Steve made his way to the couch and sat down with a relieved exhale, and after a moment Loki sat beside him. Steve glanced at him sidelong, and he looked…uncertain. Nervous, Loki thought, and it made him feel vaguely ill. He opened his mouth to say – something, he was not sure what, but Steve beat him to it.

“What were you going to do after killing Rumlow? If you’d managed it.”

Loki was not sure what he had expected, but that wasn’t it. The question sounded so much like what James had asked, what he had kept asking, and Loki had not known the answer then. He remembered what he had thought the moment before Steve appeared – _it doesn’t matter if they kill me as long as he is dead_ – and thought perhaps that was what he would have done. Perhaps not immediately, but eventually. There was only so far one could fall before hitting bottom. “I do not know,” he said, instead of telling Steve things he knew would only hurt him.

“Thor said…” Steve cleared his throat. “Thor said that when Frigga talked to you, you said some things that sounded like you…didn’t intend to survive. Is that…was she wrong?” Loki could hear the plea in Steve’s voice for him to agree, but he knew Steve already knew the answer.

“Why are you asking me this?” Loki asked. Steve closed his eyes.

“Because I…Loki, you said, a while back…when Doom had you, that he said he’d killed me. You said that you would have followed me. And now…what if I’d come back, and you’d already – you were already-” Steve took a shuddering breath. He sounded frightened, and it made something in Loki’s stomach ache.

“I thought you were dead,” Loki said. His voice sounded hollow. “I touched your – what I believed was your corpse. Tried to heal you, to bring you back, and felt how – _empty_ it was.”

“I know,” Steve said. “I know – I _know_ how that feels. But Loki – if you died. What would you want me to do?”

“Keep living,” Loki said without hesitation. “Move on, move forward. I would like you to mourn, but-” His voice died. He knew what Steve was driving at, but could he not see that it was different? Steve was – _Steve._ Valuable, loved by so many, important to the world which was brighter for having him in it. Loki was…not.

“That’s what I want for you,” Steve said. His voice sounded like it hurt. “I – I’m alive this time, but someday – and I need to know that you’ll be all right. That you won’t just – give up, that you’ll move on. That you won’t – throw yourself into something that only ends in your death.”

“That isn’t what I was doing,” Loki objected. “They could not hurt me. I was _avenging_ you.”

Steve swallowed. “You couldn’t be certain they couldn’t hurt you. I know – I _know_ what recklessness looks like, Loki, and what you and Bucky were doing…”

“You were _dead,_ ” Loki interrupted. “You were gone, and there was _nothing left,_ it felt as though someone had reached inside of me and ripped out my heart and left a gaping, bleeding hole in its place. I could not breathe, I could hardly think, everything was _empty_ and the only thing that meant anything, the only thing that gave me any kind of purpose, that made me feel less like I was about to _die_ with every breath was hunting down every last one of the mortals who caused your death.”

“Loki,” Steve said. His voice sounded like it was about to break. “Oh god, Loki.”

“Would you tell me to live with my lungs torn from my chest and burnt in front of me? With a knife tearing my guts open over and over again? What you ask of me is just as impossible. You tell me to _move on_ but that is just it – I stopped when you died. I could not go forward from that moment. I was frozen there, living the instant that I realized you were gone over and over again, every moment of every day.” Loki sucked in a gasping breath and realized that he was crying again, tears streaming down his face, his throat choked with saliva and phlegm. Steve moved, arms around Loki’s shoulders pulling him close, rocking him back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered, and it sounded as though he was crying too. “I’m sorry. I’m here now. I’m sorry.” Loki moved his arms clumsily, clinging to him, sliding one hand under his shirt to press against his chest where he could feel Steve’s heart beating.

“I knew,” Loki said, and had to stop to try to swallow back a shuddering sob. “I knew – while I was doing it. That you would not approve. That it was not what you would want. James – you should not fault James for it. I knew he would not be able to refuse-”

“Shh,” Steve said, stroking his hair. “Loki, shhh. We don’t need to do this right now.”

“Do you hate me?” Loki asked. “I – need to know. I need to know if – I need to know.”

Steve’s hand stilled. “Hate you? Why would I –?”

“For killing them,” Loki said. “For killing all of them.”

Steve was quiet for a moment and Loki felt himself shudder, but then his fingers were back in Loki’s hair. “No,” he said firmly. “I don’t hate you. I don’t…I don’t approve, but I don’t hate you. I could _never_ hate you.” Loki shuddered in his whole body, heard himself make a faint noise that he did not intend to make, the tears flowing afresh. He thought he had wept himself dry, and yet here he was.

“I love you,” he said, because he had not said it enough. “Steve. I am sorry, I am – I am so glad you are alive. I am sorry. I love you.”

He felt something wet hit his scalp, soaking into his hair. He had made Steve weep as well, then. Loki felt a pang of guilt, but he was tired, so tired, and it had been so long since he’d had any rest at all. “I know,” Steve said. “I love you too, Loki. Things are going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right.”

“I am so tired,” Loki said, aloud this time.

“It’s okay,” Steve said. “You can sleep now. You’re safe.”

Loki knew he probably should not be resting on Steve like this, but he was so tired, and he did not want to let him go. _Everything is going to be all right._

He slept.

* * *

If the first days Steve had seemed to die had passed in a fog, so too did these now. He slept a great deal. He shadowed Steve’s footsteps in the infirmary, listened to the catalog of his injuries and felt the sting of guilt again. “I could have saved you sooner,” Loki said. “If only I had been more careful, or less…”

Steve told him not to blame himself for that.

They did not speak again about Loki’s actions, but Loki could see it lurking in the worry on Steve’s face when he looked at him. Loki told himself it did not matter. Not now. What came in the future…could not be planned for.

He saw less of James than he would have expected. Apparently there was some difficulty with the facility Loki had freed him from, but in the end, somehow, it seemed he was free, conditionally. Confined to the Tower, for the moment. (Loki wondered what Barton thought of that development, considering his previous hostility.)

Sam Wilson came and spoke to him. He did not shout, exactly, but his displeasure was clear. “For all I knew you’d run off to commit suicide,” Sam snapped, “or as good as – and before you ask, _yeah,_ that would’ve _upset_ me.”

“I am sorry,” Loki said, though it felt foolish and small.

Sam sighed out. “Yeah, all right. I accept it. But you’re damn lucky, you know that? You _and_ Barnes, damn lucky.”

He left his dreams open, but Frigga did not come into them. Loki’s heart ached, and he could only hope that she would come in person soon. He did not want to break that fragile bond, so recently begun to mend.

Sometimes he dreamed of Steve dead, and woke choking on a scream, and had to go to Steve’s rooms in the Tower to watch him sleep, tracking the slow rise and fall of his chest. The dreams lessened when Steve had healed enough that they could return to their apartment together.

The fear lingered longer. When Steve’s physical therapy ran long. When the subways were delayed and it took Steve longer to get home. Then it came back: black, yawning fear gaping its mouth open to swallow him whole. His breaths would come short and strained and he could not think, fear ruling him, controlling him.

He felt foolish and selfish demanding comfort when Steve was barely recovered from his own ordeal. Steve did not seem to begrudge him his childish need, but Steve, Loki sometimes thought, would not begrudge his arm if he thought someone else needed it more.

Nonetheless, they both healed. Stumblingly, slowly. Loki kept his distance from Barnes, fearing that his closeness could only jeopardize James’s fledgling freedom.

But there was one loose thread still left that Loki could not forget.

Brock Rumlow yet lived.

The man might not have killed Steve, but undoubtedly he had been instrumental in his capture, and the grief he had caused Steve’s friends and James alone – the grief he had caused Loki _himself –_ demanded answer. Besides…a living enemy was an enemy that could strike again. Perhaps next time he would not settle simply for the death of a clone.

Finding where Rumlow was being kept was a delicate project. No one would tell him if he asked directly, Loki was certain, but while Stark’s computers were secure they were not safe against his magic. An off-site high security facility, he was informed, taking advantage of a few moments when Steve was undergoing examination and Thor was busy elsewhere, so he was momentarily unwatched. Loki memorized the coordinates and retreated, erasing all signs of his intrusion behind him.

He slipped out of bed in the middle of the night and teleported himself where he needed to go under a shroud of invisibility. Steve started to stir at his departure and Loki cast a quick working, urging him to rest on – it was not hard to encourage, not when his lover was still wounded and exhausted. Slipping through the defenses was laughably easy, and he made his way down to the sub-basement where Rumlow was being held. He let himself past the double-locked doors with a touch of magic.  Loki stepped forward, conjuring a light, and stopped.

Rumlow’s body lay sprawled on the floor, his throat slashed open, a – to call it a “blade” would be generous but it was sharp enough - on the ground beside him. _Too late,_ a part of Loki’s brain murmured, but his eyes flicked from the angle of the gash to the weapon and he frowned.

He felt a prickle on the back of his neck, alerting him to the presence of another in the room. He should have noticed, stepping inside. Loki chided himself for his inattention. “Clearly I should have gotten here sooner,” he murmured.

“Guess so.” James’s voice was very neutral. Loki’s felt the corners of his mouth twitch.

“How did you get here?” He asked.

“Borrowed a car.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Stole, you mean.” He clicked his tongue. “Embarking on a life of crime already.”

“It wasn’t even locked.” James did not sound terribly apologetic. Loki huffed a very quiet laugh.

“A man cutting his own throat would not manage to go so deep,” he said, after a moment. James was quiet for a moment before stepping up beside Loki. His face, when Loki glanced at him, was very cold.

“Probably not. Sloppy, huh.”

“A touch.” Loki cocked his head to the side. “But I doubt that anyone is going to examine the death of Captain America’s murderer too closely.” He paused. “Except perhaps Steve.”

James’s expression flickered. “What would you have done?”

“A curse,” Loki said. “It makes the victim’s heart race until it gives out. To the medical eye, it would look…natural.”

James frowned slightly. “I guess I should’ve waited.”

“You might have,” Loki said. “But I understand why you did not.”

“He needed to die,” James said coldly. Loki inclined his head, and James let out a loud breath. “That’s it, then. Isn’t it.”

“It is,” Loki said. “For now. There will be others.”

James nodded, slowly. The fingers of his metal hand flexed. “Let’s go,” he said after a moment. “I’m sick of looking at him.”

Loki took them both back to the roof of Stark’s tower. Barnes looked at him and then out at the city. “You’re all right, Loki,” he said after a breath. “You know I used to be jealous of you?”

Loki jerked. “Jealous of _me?_ ”

“You were so sure of yourself,” James said, one corner of his mouth tugging up. “You knew who you were. And Steve…it was obvious how much Steve cared about you. Even when I could hardly keep track of what he was supposed to be to me, I was still jealous. Seems stupid now.”

“Sure of myself.” Loki blinked and laughed, a little incredulous. “When Steve learned you were alive I assumed that I was about to be replaced.”

James snorted. “That seems even stupider.” Loki tried not to feel a little insulted by that. “And now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Loki echoed. He glanced out at the lights of the city below them, their dazzling brightness drowning out the stars. “Steve will be upset about Rumlow. If he traces it back to you…”

“I’ll deal with it.” James gave Loki a sidelong look. “But I doubt it’ll come back to me.” He rolled his shoulders. “You said there’d be others.”

“And there will,” Loki said. “The Captain’s chosen profession creates many enemies.”

“And you and me,” James said. “We’ll be there to take them down.”

Loki inclined his head, and James nodded and blew out a breath.

“Thanks,” he said, after a moment. “For everything. Not just…I don’t know what I would’ve done, locked in that cage. Nothing good. And now…at least I know there aren’t any more traps in my head.” James met his eyes, expression open. “You’re not bad, you know?”

“High praise,” Loki murmured, and James made a face at him. Loki felt his mouth curve into a lopsided smile. “Thank you, James Barnes. You are…a decent sort yourself.”

“Careful,” James said. “You’re going to give me a big head.” He reached out and gripped Loki’s shoulder, very briefly, before stepping back. “Now get out of here. Steve’s going to panic if he wakes up and you’re gone.”

Loki felt his lips twitch again. “Sleep well, James.”

“You know, now? Maybe I will.” James raised a hand in a lazy salute, and Loki twisted himself back to his and Steve’s apartment.

Steve was fast asleep still, though he stirred when Loki stepped up to the bed. “Loki?” He mumbled, opening his eyes a fraction. “Why’re you dressed? Where’d you go?”

“Not far,” Loki murmured. “Just for a walk. Go back to sleep.”

“C’mere,” Steve said, holding out his arms. Loki paused a moment, then stripped down to leggings and tunic and laid down. Steve nuzzled into him with a soft sigh. “Love you,” he mumbled, and Loki felt himself smile.

“And I you,” Loki whispered. “Until the world or I end. Beloved.”

There would be other attackers, other dangers. But for now, Steve lived. That could be enough. The rest…

He would face the rest when it came.


End file.
